


Not Properly Socialized

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Boyfriends, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows chronologically 'The List' and 'Fumbling Teenage Boys' series. It all starts with an innocently suggested double date, and everything spirals out from there. Takao isn't so good at keeping his mouth shut, Kuroko dislikes being surprised, and what has happened in the past really should stay in the past. As for the latter, it's a pity such a thing is easier said than done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Let's go out on a double date!"

 

Kuroko wants to know one of two things, but preferably, both of them: one, how does Takao manage to track him down so very easily to propose such things, and two, _how does he know he's dating someone?_ It sends a mild spark of panic up his spine, and Kuroko is left staring for a good, long while.

 

"I don't have a girlfriend. Momoi-san isn't--"

 

"No, shh. I know." Takao leans in, and Kuroko can't help but think he's very… touchy. A little bit like Kise, but somehow less annoying. "Neither am I," he says, winking, "but mine is _really_ shy, and I just think it would be good for him to get out and have a night with someone else that… understands the situation."

 

"The situation," is Kuroko's slow echo, and takes a sip from his vanilla shake. Takao beams back at him. 

 

"Yeah!" 

 

Kuroko considers it. If nothing else, maybe he'll get some pointers about being subtle from Takao, considering he thought for _sure_ no one could tell that he and Kagami were… involved, and he never, _ever_ realized that Takao was like that. He hardly seems the type at all, what with how popular he is… 

 

"All right. But I'm not telling Kagami-kun it's… like that. Or he'll never go."

 

"Sounds good to me! I'll text you the details later, I'm getting reservations. No, don't make that face, it's not gonna be too fancy, it's just a popular place. You like tempura, right?"

 

Kuroko does. Well enough, at any rate. It's going to be one of those nights, isn't it?

 

Kagami, several hours later, is suddenly cursing the fact that they’re back in Japan. 

 

“You look really good tonight,” he says, something halfway between a grin and a leer on his face as he falls just a half-step behind Kuroko, enough to comfortably look at him as they walk. “If we were still in L.A. I’d think this was a date. You never want to go out for Japanese food.”

 

"Mm," Kuroko muses aloud, tilting his head back to look at Kagami over his shoulder, "but in L.A., it was sort of scary to go out at night. Or ever." 

 

“Ahh, you act like I didn’t keep you safe,” Kagami complains, ruffling Kuroko’s hair aggressively. “No one bothered us, you’re invisible and I’m scary-looking, like you said. Hey, who’s paying tonight? If it’s not...you know.”

 

"Ahhh, there you two are! I was thinking you might be lost!"

 

"Takao-kun is," Kuroko mildly replies, looking up at Kagami with a faint, not-so-innocent smile on his face as Takao all but bounces on the street corner, waving. "It was his idea. Apparently, _his_ boyfriend is shy, too."

 

Kagami doesn’t even have time to react, or time to grab Kuroko and dribble him a little in revenge, or time enough to shout, “ _His what_ \--” before Shutoku’s point guard trots over to them. He stares at Kuroko, suddenly questioning a whole lot of things before composing his face. Maybe it’s a joke. Kuroko’s fucking weird sometimes. “Uh, hi, Takao. Uh, kun.”

 

"You're kind of making that same face you do on the court when you want to dunk someone's head!" The way Takao says it is so perkily that Kuroko wonders if he realizes Kagami would actually _do it_. "Ah, sorry, really sorry--I hope you're not too weirded out, I just reeeeaally needed to get my boyfriend out of the house and socializing again and, well… good food is one way to do that, right?" 

 

"… Takao-kun is sort of sparkling, isn't he," Kuroko absently notes. Hmm. At least he's better than Kise, if only because he isn't all… drapey in his general direction.

 

“You don’t need to say things like that out loud,” Kagami snarls, looking around the street in such a suspicious manner that it probably causes more stares and odd looks than Takao’s easy statement of his relationship. “Kuroko, you little bastard, you planned this without me?”

 

"Well," Kuroko calmly says, "you wouldn't have come if you knew this was a double date, and I wanted tempura." 

 

Kagami punches him, just a little. He deserves it, and that makes the score even in his book. “Fine, fine. Let’s just get inside before this idiot yells about it to all of Tokyo. Where is the unlucky guy, huh?”

 

Takao's lower lip immediately juts in a pout. "Unlucky? That's kind of rude, don't you think? If _I_ was taken out to dinner as a surprise with a bunch of friends, I'd be super happy!"

 

"Ah, so you didn't tell him either?" Kuroko sagely observes. They truly seem to be in the same boat.

 

"Oh, he would have _absolutely_ not come," Takao cheerfully replies, and turns on his heel to lead the way back inside. "Our table's in the back right there--Shin-chan, look, I brought friends!" 

 

Kagami starts to growl in fresh annoyance, but--ah.

 

Ah, this might actually be funny.

 

In his search for tempura, Kuroko has somehow managed to wrangle himself into dinner with possibly his own least favorite person in basketball, all without knowing it, and Kagami snorts out a burst of laughter so large it hurts his nose. He wraps an arm around Kuroko, manhandling him happily to the table, scooting into the booth. “Hiya, Midorima,” he says cheerfully, giving the name a slightly American inflection. “Long time, no see.”

 

Midorima’s face falls, and he looks up at Takao with murder in his eyes.

 

Takao smiles at him sweetly before scooting in next to Midorima and effectively blocking his escape path. "Don't make that face, Shin-chan! You said you'd enjoy tempura with me tonight, you can't back out now!"

 

"I changed my mind," Kuroko deadpans, pushing at Kagami in his own attempt to escape. "I want to use a free pass to decline this dinner invitation."

 

“You used your last free pass to get out of going to the auto show,” Kagami reminds him with a grin, easily shoving him down into the booth. “If you want another one you have to build up credit first. They’re _your_ rules.”

 

Midorima glowers, but doesn’t attempt such an undignified thing as an escape. “I feel tricked,” he mutters, and glares at his lucky item, a yellow baseball keychain, as if it’s the one responsible.

 

"Ahh, auto show? Where? I knew I should have driven here tonight, but Tokyo traffic is _so_ awful--Kagami-kun probably could have appreciated my wheels, though!" Takao brightly segues, entirely unfazed by the general atmosphere of displeasure. This isn't just dinner; it's dinner and a _show_. Kuroko, meanwhile, settles a thoroughly betrayed look upon Kagami before settling back, obviously _trying_ to maintain a modicum of politeness. 

 

“In L.A.” Kagami replies, settling into his booth. “Some of the best cars in the world, it was fantastic, but _someone_ wanted to go to a public library exhibition instead. What kind of wheels have you got? Oh, and are you really paying? I’m _starving_.”

 

“His gluttony is legendary,” Midorima says, a little self-satisfied. “Honestly, we could have gone to sushi tonight, Takao.”

 

"Oh, eat all you want, it's fine! You're putting up with my idea of fun, so it's the least I can do!" Takao turns his head, making a face at Midorima. "Shin-chan eats nothing but sushi, don't you get sick of it?"

 

"Libraries are better than cars." Kuroko sounds a little sulky about it. "Especially with the way Kagami-kun drives."

 

"If you're in L.A., there's really no helping driving like a bat out of hell, yeah? And okay, _technically_ ," Takao says, leaning forward a bit, "it's my dad's car, but he got a new one about a year ago and gave me this one instead. It's a Mercedes-Benz SL convertible, try and tell me that isn't awesome. Even Shin-chan likes it!" 

 

“It has exceptionally roomy leg areas,” Midorima admits. He carefully omits the fact that it purrs soothingly when Takao drives, or that he really, really likes that it’s _that_ car they get into after any event. 

 

“Ahh, that’s a _sweet_ car,” Kagami says, almost whines, really. “My dad lets me use his Lexus when I’m in town, but that’s not the same as having my own. Maybe if we go there for college, eh, Kuroko?”

 

"Kagami-kun is being excessively American tonight," is the quietly cross mutter in response, Kuroko still rather displeased that _he_ has been tricked rather cruelly into something he finds unpleasant. 

 

Takao sputters out a laugh. "Is it a Generation of Miracles thing for them to be so cranky? Well, except Kise-kun, but he's kinda…" 

 

“Irrelevant,” Midorima interrupts. He looks down over his glasses at Kuroko, and inwardly sighs. It’s really a shame, but the best revenge he can get on Kuroko at this point is probably doing as Kagami is doing, pretending to enjoy himself. 

 

A pity that seems so utterly impossible. 

 

“Kuroko,” he tries, hoping he doesn’t look entirely stiff. “Have you heard from Aomine since you and Kagami defeated him? I have been wondering if he’s changed at all, though I doubt it.” Yes, good, that’s entirely appropriate conversation.

 

If possible, Kuroko's expression turns even darker. "I haven't heard from him," he quietly admits. "The last I saw of him, he was sort of… sulking, a little." _I don't know what to do with him at all._

 

"He does seem to have that sort of personality, doesn't he?" Takao butts in, sighing as he places his chin in one hand. "What a scary guy. Hey, let's order already, I'm starving, too--and yes, Shin-chan, they totally have green salt, don't get huffy about it, this is the best tempura place in Tokyo!"

 

Kagami pushes the button to summon the server, then puts his order in enthusiastically, finger hovering over every dish, considering, before finally ordering. He only passes once, before handing the menu off to Kuroko. “Get whatever mix you want,” he says quietly, “and I’ll eat whatever you don’t like. You don’t like green peppers, right?”

 

Appeased by the offer of green salt, Midorima considers carefully before ordering. “Not that we’ll need any other food with this garbage disposal at the table,” he says under his breath, passing his menu to Takao.

 

"Be nice, Shin-chan," is Takao's only, light-hearted chide before he orders as well, finding himself rather impressed with Kagami's, uh, prowess… if that's even the word he should use. Thank god he's wealthy. "Isn't it nice to go out with other people for a change? You get sick of me, I know. Hey, why aren't you cute and eat the things I don't like?" Come to think of it, he's usually eating the things Midorima doesn't like. Oh well, close enough.

 

“I have no desire to be cute,” Midorima reminds him, pushing his glasses up his nose with two taped fingers. “And you only dislike broccoli, quite rightly. Perhaps we should get a broccoli-eating hygienic animal. How hygienic is your animal, Kuroko?”

 

Kuroko stares back at Midorima, unblinking. "As hygienic as you, I'm sure."

 

"So why'd you two head off to L.A.? Vacation?" Takao quickly interrupts, dropping his chin into one hand. "I wish Shin-chan and I could just take off like that, but his family is so overprotective." 

 

“Vacation,” Kagami says hastily, sort of shifting in front of Kuroko to keep him from antagonizing Midorima any further, at least until the food has arrived. After he’s eaten, he’ll laugh as much as Takao at Kuroko’s sniping, but he doesn’t want to take the chance it’ll escalate and he’ll have to be a Good Boyfriend and leave with Kuroko. “My dad works there, so it was no big deal. We got to see a Lakers game, though!”

 

"Ahh, really cool! I'm jealous. Shin-chan, would you take me to a Lakers game?" Maybe if he bats his eyelashes and is cute enough, Midorima will stop scowling in Kuroko's general direction. "My dad doesn't work in America, but both my mom and dad travel all over for their work. My mom's been in France lately, and my dad… uh… hell, somewhere in England? I don't even know this time of year." 

 

“Never been,” Kagami grunts, eyes tracking around the restaurant in search of their server. Honestly, how long does it take to fry vegetables? “If you two are ever in America, let me know, I’ll hook you up with tickets. I know some guys.”

 

“I’m taking you skiing in New Zealand,” Midorima says curtly, but his hand moves under the table, brushing lightly against Takao’s. “That should be exciting enough for one school vacation.”

 

Kagami looks between the two of them--yeah, him and Kuroko _totally_ aren’t that obvious. “So how did you know?” he asks abruptly. “About us.”

 

Takao looks _terribly_ pleased with himself, his fingers catching hold of Midorima's before the other boy can pull his hand away. "Lucky guess," he lightly answers. That's really not true at all, but whatever. "I'm pretty good with people, or so I've been told! Don't worry, you guys aren't obvious or anything at all." 

 

Kuroko relaxes a fraction at that news. "It was a little jarring, how you approached me."

 

"I'm sorry! Really sorry. There's just… ahh, to be fair, there's no real good way to do it at all," Takao sheepishly points out. 

 

"And I had no idea you and Midorima-kun…" Kuroko trails off, eyebrows raising. "I'm actually astonished, Midorima-kun. I was certain Kise-kun would acquire a real relationship before you."

 

“And I was certain you’d still be pining over Aomine by the time I acquired my medical license,” Midorima says smoothly, taking a sip of his water.

 

A muscle in Kuroko's jaw twitches.

 

"Shin-chaaan, that's crossing a line, you can't make jabs about exes," Takao chides him underneath his breath, giving his hand a pinch underneath the table. "Be sweet!"

 

"No, it's fine," Kuroko _calmly_ says. "Aomine-kun isn't like that. Midorima-kun clearly is overestimating his skill at evaluating relationships. I see why you wanted to bring him out to be properly socialized." 

 

“A night out is good for all of us,” Kagami says firmly, though he can’t really help the way his eyes dart towards Kuroko in sort of horrified curiosity. It’s almost so bad he’s distracted from the arrival of the food, though that doesn’t last more than a few seconds. “Besides,” he adds, stuffing half a kabocha slice in his mouth, watching Midorima dunk his delicately in matcha salt before nibbling, “I guess we can’t really talk if we were that surprised. Coach said you two were like Shutoku’s light and shadow, and we…” He grins, mouth stuffed so full his cheeks bulge out. “How long?”

 

Midorima counts days in his head. It’s comforting. “Four months and thirteen days.”

 

"Ehh, Shin-chan has it down to the _day_ ," Takao whistles, eating at a pace that's somewhere between polite and _wow food is really good_. "I really am loved, then. What's up with the light and shadow stuff, though? Shin-chan, is that a Generation of Miracles thing, too? Should I be honored to be compared or something?" Kuroko, for his part, settles for silently eating and pretending those horrified looks never happened.

 

“It’s something…” Kagami chews a bit angrily, glaring at Midorima, and swallows. “It’s something that Aomine said a long time ago. Whatever, it’s why we work so well together.” He leans over, nudging Kuroko’s shoulder. _It’s fine_ , he wants to say, though he doubts Kuroko will get that from a shove and a look. _I’m not angry. We’ll talk later._

 

“If he said it about himself,” Midorima says mildly, “you should know that it was Akashi who came up with it. He applied it to whichever scorer Kuroko worked well with on any given day. Rarely me.”

 

"That's because Midorima-kun used to be rather awful at paying attention to his surroundings and thusly, his teammates. Thankfully Takao-kun seems to have broken him of such shameful habits." Kuroko takes a tiny bite, chewing slowly. 

 

Takao tries not to giggle, though it's impossible at this point. "Shin-chan really has gotten a lot better at that. Hey, remember when you wanted all of the plays to be 'pass the ball to me'?" 

 

“I would still prefer that,” Midorima says honestly, dipping an onion in salt before nibbling on the end of it. Takao had been right, though he’ll never admit it. This really is the best tempura in Tokyo. “But there are many and varied advantages to team play as well. Especially when that team is as talented as Shutoku.” 

 

Ah, he _hates_ admitting he’d been wrong, but perhaps now is a good time for the unfamiliar practice. “You were right, incidentally,” he says, the words like ground glass in his mouth. “We were missing that at Teiko.”

 

Kuroko's lips twitch into an almost, not-quite smile. "The game you played against Akashi-kun was an impressive one," he quietly replies in turn. "If he hadn't been trying to prove a point, I think the outcome would have been different."

 

“It never would have been different against Akashi,” Midorima says quietly, not meeting Kuroko or Takao’s eyes. “It won’t be when you play Rakuzan either. You know it, even if this person doesn’t.”

 

“Eh?” Kagami asks, blinking at Kuroko and swallowing a mouthful of shrimp. “Why not? Everyone’s beatable.”

 

"Shin-chan's being overdramatic again," Takao crossly says, stealing an onion from his plate for good measure and slathering it in matcha salt. "Kagami-kun is right, everyone is beatable. Even that asshole."

 

"… Akashi-kun has a way of playing basketball that is very…"

 

"He's not playing basketball, he's playing fucking mind games. He's not magic, he's a dick." Takao angrily bites into his onion. " _Seriously_."

 

Kuroko's eyebrows knit a bit. "Takao-kun feels very strongly about this."

 

"Ah… sorry, sorry." Maybe he had gotten a little forceful there. "I just really don't like the guy. Seriously, kick his ass for me on the court, will you? Take him down a few pegs."

 

“Will do,” Kagami agrees easily. He doesn’t _like_ that someone like Shutoku had been taken down so easily, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be the same for Seirin. Matches are funny that way. “Maybe they’ll get struck by a meteor before we play them anyway, right, Kuroko? Hey, are you going to eat your broccoli? I heard you don’t like it, give it here.”

 

"If there was a meteor coming, Akashi-kun would see it coming and make sure his team was not present that day, so we would be the ones that perished instead," Kuroko solemnly says.

 

"What the fuck," Takao mutters underneath his breath, and promptly nudges his broccoli onto Kagami's plate.

 

“Jesus, Akashi makes you all morbid,” Kagami grumbles, popping the broccoli into his mouth. 

 

“He has a way about him,” Midorima agrees. “I’m more inclined to agree with Kuroko here, much as it pains me to say.”

 

“See,” Kagami says, jabbing his chopsticks in Midorima’s direction, “that’s why you’re a dick. You don’t have to say it that way. You can just say he’s right, you don’t have to say it pains you to say it. No one talks like that anyway.”

 

"Midorima-kun does," Kuroko calmly says. "I'm used to it by now, it's fine, really. I'm also used to Americans."

 

"Ugggh, you're all so overdramatic, seriously. He's just another sixteen year old that dribbles really well, move _on_ ," Takao bemoans, stuffing a pepper into his mouth with gusto. "If you keep putting him on a pedestal, _that's_ why he wins, not because he's _better_." 

 

Midorima lets it go, unwilling to open this discussion yet again. “You’re right, Takao,” he says quietly, finishing off his onion. “Do you want me to eat something of yours?”

 

Kagami, entirely unaware of Midorima’s attempts to be “cute,” pops three of Kuroko’s tempura in his mouth at once as punishment for being called American. “Give up on food yet?”

 

Ah, really good, a cute distraction. "Shin-chan, it's so cute when you do that," Takao shamelessly encourages, and idly nudges another few peppers to the side of his plate. 

 

"Mm, I give up completely," Kuroko agrees, pushing his plate in Kagami's direction. 

 

For a moment, it’s shy, embarrassed smiles all around as Kagami finishes up Kuroko’s plate, and Midorima casually eats green peppers as if it’s an act of heroism. Kagami swallows the last bite, then looks expectantly at Takao. “You up for dessert?”

 

" _Definitely_ \--ah, but not here, if we go down a few blocks, there's an _amazing_ frozen yogurt place that even Shin-chan likes," Takao enthusiastically says with all the expertise of a I-know-exactly-what-Shin-chan-will-and-won't-eat connoisseur.  "Do you guys eat out often? You should meet up with us sometimes if you do, I swear Shin-chan's not always so prickly."

 

"Debatable," might have been the mutter underneath Kuroko's breath.

 

“I’m up for it,” Kagami says somewhat enthusiastically, and the tempura in his belly starts vaguely arranging itself. “Kuroko? I know sometimes you can’t eat very much, but I bet they have great vanilla ice cream treats there.”

 

Midorima scowls at Takao. “I’m not that prickly. I’m just particular. I like things.”

 

"I'll eat something," Kuroko allows, blinking up at Kagami. "If I can't finish it, you can have it." 

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know you like things, Shin-chan. Let's go, then!" Takao brightly says, scooping up the bill as he fishes around for his wallet. "See, this wasn't _so_ awful, was it? You would have been a lot angrier with me if I had invited Kise-kun, I bet."

 

“I would not be sitting here,” Midorima says flatly. “Especially after last time.”

 

“Hmm? Last time?” Kagami asks, looking at Kuroko to see if he has any idea what they’re talking about. “Hey, has Shutoku ever played Kaijou?”

 

“No. We’d win. One hundred percent.”

 

Kuroko gives a tiny shrug.

 

"Yeah, we would definitely win," Takao agrees without hesitation, sliding out of the booth first with a stretch. "Even if Kise-kun can copy stuff, it's still not the real deal. Shin-chan would probably make him cry."

 

“Not on purpose,” Midorima says, exiting and tilting his head to the side, loosening his neck. “He cries when he loses, though, so most likely.”

 

“Yeah, so do you,” Kagami says with a shrug. “All the Miracles I’ve gone up against have, except Kuroko. Guess he’s made of sterner stuff.”

 

"Shin-chan's pretty when he cries, at least!" Takao dismisses with a laugh, paying the bill on their way out without batting an eye. "I get all gross and ugly. Also, it's good that Kuroko-kun doesn't cry, he has that kind of face that would make me way too sad to see that."

 

"… Thank you?" Kuroko attempts. It's supposed to be a compliment, probably. 

 

Kagami elbows him. “How come you thank him for calling you weird names but not me for saying you’re stronger than all of them?” he growls, reminding himself to leave marks later. Ah, not that he’ll ever be able to stay annoyed. He’s not good at it in general, and abysmal when it comes to Kuroko.

 

“Takao. I am _not_ pretty when I--I don’t cry!”

 

"Because I don't think I'm that much stronger than any of them; it's rude to assume things like that, anyway," Kuroko matter-of-factly says, rubbing at where Kagami elbowed him.

 

"Hehh, you totally cry, and your lashes get all wet and gloopy," Takao teases, leading the way out of the restaurant. "It's _really_ cute." 

 

At least the frozen yogurt place isn’t far, and even if it doesn’t have nearly the selection that the American places have, it has flavors Kagami’s never even heard of. He gets the largest size, delighting in filling it as far as he can basically stack the ice cream, and immediately gives himself an ice cream headache. “Ah….word of advice, take it slow.”

 

The look Midorima gives him could wither stone.

 

"Shin-chan, stop giving me gross looks, it's really uncute." Uggh, he wants more couples dates, even if Midorima and Kuroko are _barely_ getting along. Maybe it's because he's such a people-watcher, and Kagami and Kuroko are actually all sorts of adorable, especially when Kuroko eats very delicately on a single scoop of vanilla while Kagami nearly kills himself with something a dozen times larger. "Hey, let me try a spoonful of yours," he says, and promptly steals some from Midorima's without waiting for a response. "Remember that time I got you to eat American desserts and you decided you _really_ liked them? His family is _super_ traditional," Takao explains over his shoulder to Kagami, "so I considered it a level-up."  

 

Kagami nods sagely, pinching the bridge of his nose until the headache goes away before immediately digging back in. “Kinda the same with him,” he admits, jerking his head in Kuroko’s direction. “When we went to America he was super reluctant to try everything, but he found some cool new things. Tell him about the cheeseburger that changed your life, Kuroko.”

 

"It didn't change my life, just my dining experience for the evening."

 

"Shin-chan would never touch a cheeseburger," Takao laughs. "Once, when the team suggested going to McDonald's, he _flipped out._ They're actually pretty good around here, you know? Not like _Paris_ or anything, but--" His phone bleeps from his back pocket, and he juggles his ice cream for a moment, reaching back for it. "Sorry, sorry--it's probably my little sister, she gets bored sometimes and--"

 

Flipping it open and seeing a text message from an entirely unfamiliar number makes him blink, though, and Takao opens it.

 

He prides himself on not throwing it into traffic like it's burning his hand off.

 

"Hey, Shin-chan," he _casually_ asks. "The Kyoto area code is 75, right?" 

 

“No idea,” Midorima says, taking no notice of Takao’s tone until he turns around, a smudge of chocolate ice cream at the side of his mouth. Takao’s face isn’t exactly….right. He racks his brain, thinking of what he knows of area codes. “That sounds right. Did Akashi contact you?”

 

“You guys are friendly with that guy?” Kagami asks, oblivious to the sudden tension. “What’s that even like?”

 

"I drove down to Kyoto once and punched him in the face four times." Takao snaps his phone shut, shoving it back into his pocket. "I'm about to do it again."

 

Kuroko blinks, a little mystified. "I didn't imagine Takao-kun to be so violent."

 

"I'm not." _And it pisses me off that Akashi makes me that way_. The picture he'd opened his phone to burns a hole into his mind and all logical thought, though, and Takao sucks in a steadying breath before thrusting his ice cream in Kagami's direction. "Want it? Sorry, I really lost my appetite." 

 

“Yeah, definitely.” Kagami takes the ice cream on instinct, though his brow is furrowed. “Hey, are you okay?”

 

Midorima’s voice breaks in, crisp and a little confused. “Takao. What happened? What did he say?” Unless Kagami’s wrong, there’s a hint of fear there, too.

 

"It's nothing." Ah, he really just needs to go. Even looking at Midorima right now makes him a little shaky, and that's _not_ what he wants. Takao forces a smile. "Sorry--I think I'm just gonna head home, I don't want to ruin the rest of your evening. It was really great, though, we'll do it again sometime!" 

 

Takao moves really fast when he wants to, and the brisk way he turns on his heel and trots off down the street is one of those times. Kuroko blinks, staring after him with his spoon in his mouth. "… Did he really punch Akashi-kun in the face before?" It's actually kind of funny to imagine, though he doubts the circumstances were.

 

“He did.” Midorima stares down at the ice cream in his hand, then out the door. It seems he’s done something wrong, even though he can’t imagine what it could have been. _He_ hasn’t been running around the country punching people in the face. “Several times.”

 

“Dude. Go after him.”

 

Midorima looks up, startled, at Kagami’s words. “Excuse me?”

 

“That’s what he wants. Go after him.” Kagami jerks a thumb in the direction Takao had gone. “If he’s gone, get a taxi. Trust me. Kuroko, tell him I’m right.”

 

Kuroko nods without hesitation. "He definitely wants you to go after him," he says. "Kagami-kun is good at this sort of thing, you should listen to him. And if it's about Akashi-kun, whatever Takao-kun says is probably right. Just so you know." 

 

Well. If those two can agree on something, there’s at least a small chance they’re correct. Midorima sighs, takes out a bill to pay for the ice cream in Takao’s stead, and takes off out the door, long strides carrying him quickly down the street. “Takao! Are you still here?”

 

_If you send me shit like this again, I'm going to--_

 

Takao's fingers hesitate, hands shaking as he holds the phone. What the hell can he threaten, anyway? Also, first rule of anything--if it's in writing, it's absolutely _forever_. Akashi can use that, and he _would_ , the disgusting snake. Takao grits his teeth, rapidly hitting the backspace.

 

_Don't contact me again._

 

"Yeah." He shoves his phone back into his pocket. "I'm here." 

 

Midorima catches up, relieved that Takao hasn’t completely left. “If you weren’t, I’d have taken a taxi to your house,” he says, hovering just outside an area that conveys some sort of intimacy, much farther apart than Takao usually allows him to stand. “Are you angry with me? What did I do? No, I’m certain I haven’t done anything, so why are you angry?”

 

"I'm not--" Takao sucks in a slow breath, _trying_ not to feel like throwing up. "I'm not mad at _you_. Not--okay, maybe a little," he revises, and grabs for his phone again. His grip is rather white-knuckled as he opens up that text message again, and the picture with it, and shoves it in Midorima's direction. "He sent me this." 

 

Midorima stares, swallows hard, and closes his eyes. Of all the things he hadn’t expected to see, this is rather high on the list: a photograph of himself, perhaps thirteen years old, face flushed and _messy_ , glasses askew, with someone else’s hand in his hair.

 

“I didn’t know he still had a picture of that,” Midorima says, and it sounds hollow to his own ears. “It was….” Really, what can he even say?

 

"It was what?" Takao jerks his phone back, looking down at it once more--just long enough to make himself angry again--before shoving his phone away. "You said you had never done that before. What else have you done with him and lied about?" Fuck, he sounds like a jealous girlfriend. That makes him really, really mad.

 

All right, _now_ Midorima is just confused. “If you’re intimating I was some sort of willing participant in a relationship of a nature that--dammit, do you think I was _fucking_ him?” he snarls, the politeness startled right out of him.

 

"Well, him sending me pictures like that sort of implies something like that!" Takao snaps back. "So? Were you? Is _that_ why you're so freaked out every time I want to punch him or tell you that he's not some kind of a god?" 

 

“No!” The word comes out raw, hurt, angry, and more than a little shaken. He’d _almost_ forgotten what it had been like, on his knees in front of Akashi, being confronted with every humiliating aspect of his own failure. “It was just a shogi punishment. I didn’t _touch_ him. No one was allowed to touch him.”

 

"What the fuck," Takao says for what feels like the umpteenth time just that evening. "Seriously, what the _fuck_ , Shin? That's not 'just' a shogi punishment. That's _fucked up_." 

 

Midorima takes off his glasses, rubbing at his eyelids. If the wall weren’t so _questionable_ in hygiene, he’d lean back against it. Instead, his shoulders just slump. “It was a long time ago,” he says quietly. “You don’t understand what he was to us. He had a way of making things sound perfectly reasonable, even when, in hindsight…”

 

"Don't make excuses for him! You always do that!" Probably, he should lower his voice, or at least not sound so shrill. It's hard when he's angry enough to see red, or even start crying in frustration at this point. "He's a _psychopath_ , what part of that doesn't click in your head?! Stop justifying the things he did and still _does_ , and stop putting yourself down because of it! You _get_ that he's trying to control you still with this kind of shit, don't you?"

 

Midorima swallows hard, and ah, his throat hurts even though he’s not entirely sure why.  His eyes sting, and something that’s been easy and warm feels closed and alien now. He folds his arms, not able to meet Takao’s eyes, and says quietly, “I’ll stop. I’m sorry. I don’t….I don’t know what you want me to do. You have to tell me.” _Please don’t give up on me after all this._

 

Takao _wishes_ he was really, really good at staying mad at people, and even better at being a douchebag and kicking someone to the curb entirely.

 

 _Your life would be a lot less stressful,_ a little voice tells him. _Girlfriends in spades again, really cute ones that you can show off, not worrying about anyone on the team finding out who you're actually rolling around with and eating dinner with and going on vacation to New Zealand with._  

 

It's a dumb voice, and one that lasts for about two seconds before fluttering away into a sea of frustration. 

 

"I'm… I don't know," he finally says, his own voice unsteady. "It… pisses me off, that you're not angrier about this. Doesn't it bother you that he does things like this? That he's trying to break us up?" 

 

Midorima looks at him then, green eyes perplexed and wounded through the glass frames. “Do I seem so unaffected?” he asks quietly. “Of course I don’t want you to see that. I hate the things he does. That’s why I tried to quit the team, the night he took that picture.”

 

"You could be a little more upset acting! No, don't fake it, that's not what I want." Takao groans, raking a hand back through his hair. "I'm really… I'm not even mad at you, it's just--the way you said it's _just_ a shogi punishment. Seriously. What's _up_ with that, was that a _thing_ or something? Does he have more of these?" 

 

“I didn’t mean it wasn’t important,” Midorima says, a little annoyed at the insinuation. “I meant it wasn’t _sex_. Not to me, not to him. That--there were a lot of things.” He swallows, unfolding his arms to shove his hands into his pockets. “I have no doubt he has pictures, souvenirs of some kind, or trophies of all of them. I kept a list, myself.”

 

"A picture of you with his come on your face seems _pretty sexual_ to me," Takao hisses underneath his breath, though at least he gets it a bit more. Sort of. He shudders, feeling decidedly unclean even thinking about it. "He's like a serial killer. Without the killing, I mean. _Trophies_ , are you _serious_. Why didn't you…" No, he gets why Midorima didn't _tell him_. That doesn't mean he has to be happy about it, though.

 

“Do something?” Midorima asks, guessing at the end of his sentence. “I told him I was quitting. He came to my room in the middle of the night. He showed me a plan of my house and told me exactly where he would light every fire to make certain no one got out alive. Then he played with my hair and told me he was joking, and that I was his closest friend.”

 

Ah, there's that seeing red thing again.

 

Takao strangles a noise in his throat, and stiffly waves over a cab. "We're going home."

 

Midorima nods cautiously, getting in when the cab stops. He looks at Takao in furtive little glances, a little afraid to ask whether they were going to be leaving the cab together. He _really_ doesn’t want to open that sort of dialogue with a cabbie around; ah, well, Takao will tell him whether to get out with him or not.

 

As far as Takao is concerned, there's no way Midorima is leaving his sight. 

 

The ride is painfully silent until they reach Takao's house, and he grabs Midorima's arm, hauling him out of the cab as he pays the driver. "Call your mom and let her know you're staying over," he simply says. 

 

Midorima pulls out his phone in a heartbeat. His mother picks up on the strain in his tone, but she allows it anyway, especially when his tone brooks no argument. No, he won’t be needing a toothbrush, Takao’s family has plenty. Yes, he promises to get to school all right tomorrow. Yes, he has all his things. Yes, Takao’s parents say it’s fine.

 

He hurries after Takao, the unspoken plea of _don’t let this be over, not yet, not yet_ , echoing in his mind. “It’s fine. I’m here if you want me.”

 

"Good." The front door shuts behind them, and Takao considers grabbing him and kissing him and maybe biting where Midorima hates being bitten or otherwise fucking him until he _gets it_ \--

 

None of that will make him feel better--not as much as just grabbing Midorima by the arm and hauling him over and squeezing him as tight as he can. 

 

"I really, really don't want him to mess things up." Takao shoves his face firmly into Midorima's shoulder. "It makes me really mad that he thinks he can." 

 

Midorima looks down, startled and beyond relieved. His hands tighten on Takao’s back, and he asks, a little hesitant, “Are you not finished with me?” He’d hoped, but Takao had been so _angry_ , and Midorima isn’t sure of the protocol for that kind of thing in a four month thirteen day relationship.

 

Takao's huff of disbelief is decidedly wet as he exhales it into Midorima's shoulder. "Way more angry with him than I am… _was_ with you. Not even really mad at you at all, actually, just… ugh, I really don't like him. Can I run him over with my car?"

 

“I don’t want you to go to prison.” Midorima nuzzles his face into Takao’s hair--Takao being upset like this is much easier to deal with, he hopes. “Maybe if you get him to agree to be run over. Or if no one ever finds the body. Ah, that was morbid, I didn’t mean that.”

 

"We can dump him in the ocean. We're way more badass than yakuza if we do that, right?" Takao might be way more serious about this than originally intended.

 

“Only if we get tattoos. My skin is too sensitive for tattoos. Pass.” Midorima tugs Takao down to the couch, petting his hair. “I’m going to make tea.”

 

"I'll get Shin-chan's name tattooed on my thigh." Takao sort of flops over without protest. Being angry is a _lot_ of work, and now he's mostly just upset, and he's not even very good at any of that. "I really hate him," he groans all the same, shoving his face into a pillow.

 

Midorima boils water quickly, bringing the glasses and teapot out with the tea, setting up quickly. He hesitates before pouring, asking, “Do you want the list? I still have it in my room.”

 

"… Let me think about it." Takao lifts his head with a weary sigh. "I want to know… but at the same time, I don't want to," he quietly admits. "I don't like thinking about the things he did to you."

 

“They _weren’t_ all like that,” Midorima says quickly, pouring the tea. “I’m not stupid. It was mostly kid stuff, I swear. He’d take my shoes, or make me buy everyone snacks. I _did_ get better every time.”

 

"Said as if that kind of stuff doesn't make me mad, too. I don't care how good you got at shogi, it _still_ makes me mad." Takao folds his arms. "If I had known you in middle school, I would've never bullied you." 

 

That, for the first time, really throws Midorima for a loop. “I….don’t understand,” he says carefully, setting the teapot down and taking a seat on the couch next to Takao. “Everyone thought it was amusing. Even my parents told me to ignore it. I thought it was fine.”

 

"Did _you_ think it was funny?" 

 

Midorima opens his mouth, then closes it again. He remembers shaking with barely repressed anger and embarrassment when Akashi made him run drills over and over, never stopping for water or to use the bathroom until long after practice was finished. He remembers his stomach clenching, growling when Akashi had co-opted his lunch three days in a row, refusing to let him buy anything else or share someone else’s lunch. He remembers the pain when he’d had to play blind, Aomine hitting him over and over with the basketball, everyone laughing as his fingernails had gouged half-moons into his palms. 

 

He remembers humiliation, the floor hurting his knees, Akashi’s smell light and male and musky even as young as he was, hand cruel in his hair, smile gentle as his fist had moved, the liquid splattering over his face as Akashi had told him to hold, that he looked good, that he’d be lucky if Akashi decided to show him off like this.

 

“No,” he says, and is surprised to see his hands clenched, nails making those same half-moons. “I didn’t think it was funny at all.”

 

"… Then it wasn't funny, and it wasn't _fine_." Takao reaches out, a grabbing motion preluding the actual catch of Midorima's arm to pull him down onto the couch next to him. He grabs one hand--the left one, as it happens, and carefully squeezes. "There's nothing more to it than that. There's no deep reason for it, no _justification_. Akashi is just… kind of a horrible person." 

 

Midorima’s mouth thins, and he looks up, catching Takao’s eyes. “It’s better if it’s fine,” he says, and there’s a hint of bitterness to it. “Because if it isn’t fine, then it’s _everyone_. I don’t think it’s funny when Miyaji and Kimura hit me either.”

 

"Yeah, well, I don't either, but at least they sort of _like you_ now," Takao protests, frowning. "They were really mean at first, but they came around when you sort of loosened up a bit. Akashi was just awful for no reason, and in really, really horrible ways. He _still_ is." 

 

Midorima nods, and gives up on holding himself stiffly, slumping over to rest his head on Takao’s shoulder. “Don’t be done with me. I’m not done being with you. Not by a lot. Certainly not for something that happened when I was thirteen.”

 

"I'm not… _done_ with you." The thought is really perplexing, honestly. "I just… I was just pretty shocked to get something like that texted to me. I'm sorry." Takao sucks in a slow breath and flops his arms around Midorima's back, dragging him down on top of him. "I like Shin-chan a lot," he mumbles, burying his face into Midorima's neck. "Let me keep you."

 

Midorima tries to bury his face in Takao’s shoulder, but from this angle just winds up sort of nuzzling into the couch _near_ Takao’s shoulder. Close enough. At his height, it gets difficult to cuddle sometimes or so Takao’s said before. “Tell me what to do so I don’t make you upset again.”

 

"… Think about beating him in basketball and don't put him on some weird pedestal." Takao squeezes him firmly. "And… uggh, I don't know, let me punch him in the face if I want to. And get mad when he calls you Shintarou."

 

Midorima makes a mental note to act more angry. That will make Takao happy and wanting to keep him, apparently, so it’s worth the effort. “I can do that. But I’ll still be concerned if you punch him in the face.” Akashi had frightened him, and _deeply_ , that time in his room. True, he’d been younger then, but _still_.

 

"Concerned is fine. I like concerned. _I'm_ concerned--that's why I'm so upset, you know? If something bad is happening to you, it stresses me out." Takao nudges his nose up against Midorima's shoulder. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

 

“Obviously I don’t want anything to happen to you either. I thought that was implied.” Midorima’s hands fist in Takao’s shirt, and he exhales a deep breath. It’s hard not to think that if he hadn’t lost his mind a little after the Rakuzan game, if he hadn’t frightened Takao to the point he went down to Kyoto, this never would have happened, and Takao wouldn’t be in Akashi’s sights.

 

"Well, yeah… but I still like hearing it," Takao admits wryly, and he grabs at Midorima's head, scooting up to better press their lips together for a brief kiss. "You're cute when you're all protective."

 

“Am I?” Midorima snorts, but he returns the kiss, closing his eyes and leaning into it, just a hint of the panic, the startling loss he’d felt when Takao had walked out making him urgent. “You always think I’m things I’m not.”

 

"Don't call me a liar, Midorima Shintarou," Takao grumbles, giving his hair a firm _tug_. "I'm a pretty good judge of character, thank you very much. _And_ I have great observation skills. Think that's a Hawk Eye thing?" 

 

“Like being able to see my eyelashes in the dark?” Midorima asks, a tiny smile on his face. “Or any number of things neither Hawks nor Eyes can do?”

 

"Shhh, technicalities," Takao dismisses, grinning as he lurches up to steal another kiss. "You don't know, maybe hawks are creepy and stare at your eyelashes all the time." 

 

“The average range of a hawk’s vision is--” Midorima’s words are cut off, and he finds he doesn’t really mind, not when Takao’s lips are on his and so much softer than they look. He uses his teeth a little, tugging on Takao’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and groaning at just that much intimacy.

 

"Said no technicalities," Takao murmurs into his mouth, eyes fluttering as his hands splay over the other boy's broad shoulders and he flops back down with a sigh. "I can see you really well, and all the time. That's all I care about."

 

“I like it when you look at me.” An intimate thing to admit, for Midorima. Unusual, given how little he likes being looked at except on the court. “You know I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t….I didn’t believe anything I said was a lie. I still don’t.”

 

"Yeah. I know," Takao grumbles, giving one of Midorima's cheeks a poke. "It just makes me hate him even more, knowing that. I'm not mad at you, though. I'm sorry for kind of flipping out."

 

“It’s fine. You’ve still flipped out, as you say, less than anyone I’ve ever known.” Midorima leans into Takao’s hand, eyes closing briefly. “And you’re still here.” _I’d probably forgive you just about anything, as long as you stay._

 

"Four months and 13 days and it's gonna be more than that." Takao splays his fingers, thumb brushing over a high cheekbone. "It just made me want to keep you more," he admits. "Maybe it's arrogant to say, but no one else seems very good at making you happy, and I _like_ being good at it."

 

Midorima gives him a brief smile, turning his face to kiss one of Takao’s hands. “As I’ve said on several occasions, it’s not arrogance if it’s empirically true. It’s hardly arrogant for me to say I’m good at shooting threes, is it? And you’re good at making me happy. Same thing.”

 

Takao wiggles his fingers. "True that. Then all the more reason I'm gonna stay and keep doing that. Shin-chan is mine and my responsibility and I'm not sharing."

 

Midorima exhales a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “I...not that I _like_ that stupid, too-familiar nickname,” he mutters, looking away because _god_ , this is a little embarrassing, “but it was really strange to hear you call me by my full name. I don’t want you to.”

 

"Ahh, super tsun mode activate," Takao says with a grin. "You like it a loooot, don't you, _Shin-chan?_ " 

 

“No. I don’t like it at all. Stop calling me that immediately. Go die.” Midorima’s face burns, and he pulls away, cursing himself for ever saying anything in the first place.

 

"Shin-chan, don't be so pouty." Takao immediately follows after, steadfastly latching himself to Midorima's arm. "It's okay, Shin-chan doesn't have to say it. I know Shin-chan likes it when I call him Shin-chan."

 

Instead of pulling away, Midorima seals his hand over Takao’s mouth, taking his revenge instead by leaning down to bite Takao’s chest through his shirt. “Stop it. You’ll be punished.”

 

Takao promptly licks Midorima's hand. "Oh, no," is his muffled response, sounding _far_ from upset, "not a punishment from Shin-chan. Whatever will I do."

 

“You could sound more worried,” Midorima says sternly, pulling back his licked hand and giving Takao’s face a little slap with it. “Filthy. You should be lucky I don’t do something terrible to you.” If only he could think of something--he has a feeling Takao is seeing this in a sexy way, and he’d _like_ to participate, but his mind draws a blank.

 

Takao blinks, head tilting. Oh. That's a button Takao wasn't _entirely_ sure he had, but now it's been pushed rather thoroughly. "… Tell me again how filthy I am," he says with an eager grin. "And how I'm not good enough to even touch you." 

 

Midorima stares. At least that’s some kind of a clear instruction, even if it’s a bit….well. Odd? At least it sounds like something he’ll be able to accomplish. “You’re utterly filthy,” he says, looking down at Takao’s grinning face, and the words come rather naturally. “No one like you is even close to pure enough to touch me. You should consider yourself very lucky I even entertain the idea.” He lets his hand drop down, pressing hard against Takao’s cock in his trousers. “Disgusting. You get hard from hearing that?”

 

Shin-chan is a _little_ too good at this. Takao swallows hard around a suddenly dry throat, his thighs spreading and hips twitching up eagerly. "I'm really the worst," Takao agrees with a breathy sigh, pawing at the front of Midorima's shirt as he lurches forward. "You should just use me, the only thing I'm good for is getting you off." 

 

Ah. If Takao is going to react like this….

 

Midorima swallows around a suddenly dry tongue. “If I’d known you got so hard from being told what a low creature you are, I’d have given you a piece of my mind before,” he says in a voice so low it’s almost a growl. He rubs down hard, feeling Takao arch and throb against his hand, but doesn’t venture inside his trousers. “How can I use something so filthy? You’d just get me all dirty too. Maybe you should just finish in your trousers like the disgusting boy you are.” The words on his tongue make him flush, but he’s undeniably hard too.

 

Takao _whines_ , rutting up shamelessly into Midorima's hand. He really, _really_ should have known Midorima would be good at _this_ sort of thing. It's just shy of the natural way he talks down to everyone, anyway--just add sex to it and _god_ , Takao tries to think of a time he's been this hard. Takao huffs, wriggling forward as he mindlessly slides a hand down to the front of Midorima's own trousers, thumbing open the button. "Just--let me suck you off," he begs, already on his way to slide off the couch and drop himself at Midorima's feet, no matter how loathe he is to move away from the touch of the other boy's hand. "Use my mouth however you want, you can make me even more of a mess--"

 

Midorima looks down at him, light glinting off his glasses. “If I allow you,” he says carefully, picking his words with what he thinks might get Takao off the hardest, “to try and please me with your mouth, you’re not to touch yourself. Your pleasure is secondary. Tertiary even. I have no interest in providing you a _service_ , do you understand? You’re the one who’s here to serve.”

 

The problem with _that_ is just hearing those words is enough to make him squirm. Takao barely manages a nod as he nuzzles his way forward, mouthing the line of Midorima's cock through fabric. "I won't touch myself," he murmurs, eyes lidding. _I don't even need to_. "Just wanna be good for you. Pleeease, Shin-chan."

 

Midorima’s hand fists suddenly into Takao’s hair, pulling him back. “You’re so filthy,” he whispers, unfastening his trousers with the other hand, pulling himself out, “but you don’t have permission to ruin my clothes like that. Keep your mouth where it belongs.”

 

The next whimper sort of catches in his throat, and Takao _thinks_ he nods. Ahh, god, he's going to come even before he has Midorima's cock in his mouth at this rate; everything feels hot and sort of oddly fuzzy around the edges and his cock _throbs_ as he just obediently opens his mouth, licking his lips. 

 

Midorima slides both of his hands into Takao’s hair now, letting his nails prick against his scalp as he holds him still. Carefully, he rocks his hips forward, eyes lidding as the head of his cock rubs against Takao’s lips for a brief second before sliding into his mouth. He’s so hard the head drips freely over Takao’s tongue, and he murmurs, “For someone so dirty you should get better at cleaning. Start there. Don’t leave a drop.”

 

Takao's eyes flutter as he strains to tilt his head forward, his tongue a wriggling, insistent slide around the head of Midorima's cock. The _taste_ makes him groan low in his throat--musky and masculine and god, that turns him on even more, his hands clenching into fists against his thighs to keep from touching his own painfully hard cock. Swallowing hard, Takao draws in a shaky, ragged breath through his nose, the next drag and slurp of his mouth a bit sloppier, and all the more eager.

 

“So filthy,” Midorima whispers, hands tightening in his hair. “You didn’t even wait for me to put a condom on, did you?” Ah, he has mixed feelings about that--part of him honestly recoils at the idea of how much dirtier it is without, and part of him just relishes the sensation of Takao’s tongue curling against the head of his cock. “Do you think it’s fine, because I’m clean?”

 

A muffled ( _slutty_ ) moan of agreement is Takao's reply, and his tongue flicks over the head of Midorima's cock in one long, broad stripe. "Better like this," he manages to pant out as he draws his head back, releasing Midorima's cock with another, messy lap of his tongue. "T-then I can taste all of you. I'll clean up everything, that's what I'm here for." 

 

Midorima’s cock throbs at that, and he shoves Takao’s head down harder than he intends, enough that the head of his cock bumps against Takao’s throat. He pulls out slightly, leaving one hand in his hair, wrapping the other around the base and stroking himself slowly, rubbing the head against Takao’s tongue. “Just use that filthy tongue of yours. You won’t miss a drop, will you?” They’ve never done it like this before; usually they either pull out first or wear a condom, but the idea of flooding Takao’s mouth makes Midorima’s cock _ache_. “Do you want to swallow it?”

 

That initial, deep shove of Midorima's cock down his throat leaves Takao's eyes pricking with tears on their own accord, a hard, desperate swallow calming his gag reflex back down and somehow leaving him even harder than before. He _wants_ to rut against something--almost begs Midorima to step on him, even, but far better is just letting him use his mouth like a hole, especially when all he can reply with is a breathless, muffled groan, a shaky nod of his head, and another, needy lap of his tongue to try and coax Midorima into spilling in his mouth. _Want to swallow all of it, so please_ \--

 

The combination of Midorima’s own hand and Takao’s hot wet tongue on his cock would be enough. To be honest, just the sight of Takao’s eyes, pleading and desperate for him to finish-- _that’s_ enough. Midorima groans too-loud, slumping forward over Takao’s shoulders when it overtakes him, wrenching his head back for a minute because he wants to _see_ , wants to see Takao’s cheeks fill, see his throat working, wants to see the look in his eyes when he swallows all of it, kind of wants to see him fail (he always says Midorima comes a _lot_ ) and let some spill down over his chin.

 

For as much as he promised to be _good_ and lick up _everything_ , it's difficult, _really_ difficult when Midorima comes so fast and so much and when his own body gives in right around the same time.

 

Takao swallows hard, coughing as he pulls back, shuddering from the effort as much as his own orgasm, and god, he really does feel like a slut, coming without a touch with his pants still on as he sucks his boyfriend's cock. He'd laugh at himself if he could _breathe_ , but more important is making his tongue work tirelessly, lapping and sucking at Midorima's cock and _still_ making a mess of himself, a trickle escaping down his chin no matter his efforts, his lips bruised and swollen as he licks at them as well. "Sorry," he breathlessly manages, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed, and he doesn't sound particularly sorry at all. "Shin-chan is just--way too much--"

 

Midorima’s cock gives a last, aching twitch at the sight, another drop squeezed out of the tip, and Midorima wipes it onto Takao’s cheek. He slumps back, chest heaving as he fights to get his breath back, the force of his orgasm still holding him tightly in a shaking, unrelenting grip. “That,” he breathes, eyes locked on Takao’s messy face, “was honestly filthy. Come up onto my lap, I’ll finish you off.”

 

A shaky laugh follows that. "I, ah," Takao begins, flopping forward a bit to just read his head against Midorima's knee, "already came." He should probably be more embarrassed about that. He's not. "Also, I don't think I can move just yet." 

 

Midorima rests a hand on Takao’s hair, stroking gently. “You know I really think you’re quite hygienic, right? That was just to get you off.”

 

Takao tries not to start giggling again. He fails, miserably. "I know, I know. It's just for fun. _Wow_ , you're good at that, though." 

 

“If I’d known you liked it so much, I’d have done it earlier.” Midorima bends nearly in half to brush a kiss against Takao’s temple. “I _do_ want to make you happy.”

 

"I didn't know I liked it _that_ much," Takao sheepishly admits, and slowly, grimacing, he climbs to his feet, wobbling on shaky legs before he flops down onto the couch and starts to wriggle out of his clothes. Bleck. Even he can only stand being sticky for so long. "You make me happy all the time. This kind of thing is really fun once in awhile, but I think I mostly prefer whispering sweet nothings into your ear about how you taste like cheap candy and, you know, having you take perverted pictures for later."

 

Midorima helps, agile fingers quick on the buttons and zippers, peeling Takao out of his clothes. “Good. I like seeing you get that hard, but I also _really_ like it when we’re just….enjoying it.” Then he hesitates, and grabs his phone to take a photo. “Make a peace sign. It’s really good when you do that.”

 

"That's because I'm adorable," Takao cheerfully replies, beaming up at the phone with a peace sign as requested. 

 

Midorima snaps the photo, smiling at it before tucking the phone away. “It’s not like Akashi’s,” he says quietly, leaning forward to wipe away a drop from Takao’s cheek. “It’s not a trophy. I just like to remember the way you look.”

 

"Mmn, I know. Shin-chan's just a pervert," Takao teases, leaning up to press a kiss to Midorima's cheek in turn. "Me, too, though, so it's okay."


	2. Chapter 2

 

Across town, the walk back to Kagami’s apartment is somewhat quiet, broken only by the occasional slurp on Kagami’s ice cream. Kagami holds it in well, confining his remarks to ice-cream-related words, until they get behind closed doors. “So,” he says quietly, pitching his yogurt cup perfectly into the trash can, “that was interesting.”

 

"Takao-kun is a good person," Kuroko slowly agrees as he toes his shoes off, "although his methods are questionable. I think next time, I will decline if it involves Midorima-kun." 

 

“So it’s okay if you spring a surprise on me, but not if one gets sprung on you?” There’s something of an edge to Kagami’s voice, even if he’s still building up to the question he really wants to ask.

 

Kuroko's head turns, and he stares blankly back at Kagami. "I thought it would be a good surprise. Free food always seems to be good in your book, or so I assumed." 

 

“Yeah, but you know I don’t like the idea of people….ah, but if he guessed I guess that’s okay,” he finishes on a mutter, grabbing a soda out of the fridge and flopping down. “Really, that guy? Who else could his boyfriend have been?”

 

"Takao-kun is a very sociable person, so it could have been anyone…" Kuroko points out, and heaves a quiet sigh as he drops neatly down onto the other end of the couch. "I am amazed he puts up with Midorima-kun. I certainly couldn't."

 

“You put up with a lot,” Kagami says quietly, offering Kuroko a sip of his soda.

 

Kuroko blinks back at him, taking a slow swallow before passing the soda back. "Not really. I don't put up with Kagami-kun at all. I just enjoy your company, and if you do something I don't like, I tell you." 

 

Kagami takes a long drink of his soda, hand squeezing the bottle probably harder than it should. “Yeah?” he asks, voice rough. “Is that how it was with Aomine?” It’s a dumb thing to bring up, and he’s known he was going to since the second Midorima said his name.

 

It's not quite annoyance that flickers over Kuroko's face, though it's close. "You really shouldn't listen to everything that Midorima-kun says."

 

“Yeah? So you guys never had a thing?” If Kuroko says no, he’ll drop it, he _will_ , because when you’re dating someone you _believe_ them. God, Kagami wants to be convinced.

 

"… We were never… like _this_ , no."

 

Kagami sighs, head tipping back to thunk against the back of the couch. “You know that’s not really what I want to hear, right?”

 

"Well, you asked if we had a thing. I'm assuming you mean like _you and I_ have a thing, which Aomine-kun and I definitely didn't." Kuroko hesitates, and slowly curls up to draw a knee up to his chest. "And I don't pine after him. I don't think of him much at all, actually." _On purpose_. "Midorima-kun doesn't know what he's talking about."

 

Kagami growls a little in his chest, head tipping forward, and he rubs at his temples. “Look….you don’t have to tell me anything. I get that. I’m not in charge of you, and you have the right to have….I don’t know, done whatever before. I just--you know that if you don’t tell me, I’m _always_ gonna be wondering, right? What you two did?”

 

"We didn't _do_ anything. I've told you that before." Kuroko lifts his head a bit, hesitates again, and then quietly adds: "I _thought_ we were going to, but it didn't happen after all. Aomine-kun changed and everything was different."

 

Ah, that makes more sense. Kagami doesn’t really _like_ it, but it makes more sense. “So you wanted to. Did you kiss him?” _Stop talking, Kagami. Just be glad they never had a thing and that he still likes you._

 

Kuroko stares back at him. "Kagami-kun, would you like it if I asked you every intimate detail about your relationship with Himuro-kun?"

 

Heat springs suddenly to Kagami’s face, but he turns to face Kuroko, meeting his eyes. “I had a thing for him in middle school, yeah. Two wet dreams. I was too chickenshit to ever ask him anything, and he started sleeping around with upper classmen, so I got over it. Anything else you want to know? I’m an open goddamn book.”

 

The annoyance is a bit clearer now on Kuroko's face, but he shakes his head all the same. "I didn't really want to know to start with because it doesn't matter. I don't see why it matters so much what I did or didn't do with Aomine-kun."

 

Kagami rubs his hands over his face, annoyed more with himself than with Kuroko. “It doesn’t,” he admits. “It doesn’t, I know it doesn’t, I just--shit, I get the feeling that all the times I’ve played him he’s been laughing at me for knowing stuff about you I don’t.”

 

"Aomine-kun would laugh at you regardless," Kuroko points out with a sigh, "because that's how he is now." _Apparently_. He shifts uncomfortably, looking aside. "The most we did was kiss. And there was one time in the showers when I thought something else would happen, but nothing did."

 

Kagami shifts a little closer, a little more worried about whether Kuroko is okay than about what really happened. “If he changed back,” he says carefully, “would I have reason to be worried?” _Is that why you wanted me to beat him so bad?_

 

Kuroko looks up at that, startled. "No. Absolutely not. I… decided a long time ago that wouldn't be a good idea." He bites his lip. "Mostly, it would just be nice to see him be happy again. But I mean that as a friend, not… as anything else." 

 

Kagami relaxes. It’s not as easy as it had been before Midorima’s comment, but it’s not as tense as it had been after, either. “Okay, then. That’s fine, and Midorima’s just a dick.”

 

"… Midorima-kun has tendencies." Kuroko heaves a long, heavy sigh. "Can we never talk about this again? It makes me very tired to even think about it." 

 

Kagami cups Kuroko’s face in two big hands, bringing him close for a soft brush of his lips. “Yeah. Okay. You want me to walk you home? You look exhausted.”

 

Kuroko sort of flops forward, hooking his chin solidly over Kagami's shoulder for maximum leaning capability. "Double dating is hard work. Can we never again with that, too?" 

 

“Hey, I never wanted to do it in the first place,” Kagami points out. “I really like it best when we’re just here and I’m cooking for you and then you let me rub up on you. That’s my perfect date.”

 

"Kagami-kun made that sound sweet at first, and then it got perverted." Kuroko hides a tiny smile into the crook of his neck. "But that sounds pretty good to me, too." 

 

“I don’t get why horny things can’t be sweet, too,” Kagami mutters, and gathers Kuroko into his lap. “It’s just like kissing, right? Kissing is sweet. That’s just rubbing lips. Shit, I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

 

"… Kagami-kun is cute." Kuroko wriggles up into his lap, flopping his arms over Kagami's shoulders. "I know what you're saying. And you're right. It's just fun to watch you get flustered sometimes." 

 

Kagami hesitates, looking down at Kuroko as his face gets steadily redder. “Oi. You don’t really think I’m a pervert, do you? I mean, except for the gay thing, I think I’m pretty normal.”

 

Kuroko blinks up at him, wide-eyed. "No, I don't really think that. Kagami-kun _is_ very normal, and I like it." He pauses, contemplative. "I wonder what Takao-kun and Midorima-kun do in bed--what if I was right about the spanking thing?"  

 

Kagami groans, ruffling Kuroko’s hair in punishment. “I definitely don’t want to think about that guy getting spanked. Takao seems like a nice enough guy, what’s he doing with a nutcase like Midorima?”

 

"I asked myself that for the entire span of dinner," Kuroko solemnly replies, letting his hair be thoroughly mussed without protest. "Midorima-kun is very neurotic. But… he's not a _bad_ person. Just very annoying." 

 

“Most of your old friends are weird,” Kagami admits, “but Midorima takes the damn cake. Well,” he hedges, thinking of all the others, “I guess they’re all pretty equally weird. At least he’s a great basketball player, and he doesn’t use mind games or insults like some of the others.”

 

"Mm. Midorima-kun annoys me the most, with Kise-kun a close second… or is it Aomine-kun, I'm not sure. And Akashi-kun is just… well, he's Akashi-kun." As if that explains everything. "I wonder what he did to make Takao-kun hate him so much."

 

“Wasn’t that game enough?” Kagami raises an eyebrow, inwardly amused that Aomine ranks up so high on the list of annoyances. Maybe there really wasn’t anything truly between them after all. “Forget it, we’ll crush them all and become number one in Japan, just you and me and Seirin.”

 

"It seemed even more personal than just the game." Kuroko flops his head back down against Kagami's shoulder. "I like when you talk about all of us becoming number one," he quietly murmurs. "It's going to be really nice when that happens."

 

“Better than nice,” Kagami promises, hand coming up to slowly stroke through Kuroko’s hair. “Everyone in the country is gonna know our names. We’ll be able to go to any college we want, in Japan or America or wherever.” That brings up a thought, and he looks down, suddenly curious. “What do you want to do, after college?”

 

"… I don't know." Kuroko tilts his head, thoughtful. "My sisters all want to be pharmacists," he wryly admits. "I think my mother is hoping I'll be like her, and want to be a teacher. That sounds nice, actually. I like children." He glances up at Kagami. "I don't think I'd ever get scouted for a pro team or anything like that, no matter how much I'd like that… Kagami-kun would, though, for sure." 

 

“That’s dumb. Of course you’ll get scouted for a pro team. Come on, you’re not doubting yourself now, are you?” Kagami pulls back, enough to look into Kuroko’s huge blue eyes. “I believe in your style of basketball. Soon everyone is going to.”

 

Kuroko gives a little shrug. "I'm not _doubting_ myself… I just think… flashier players, like Kagami-kun or Aomine-kun, would have much better chances. And that's fine, really. Kagami-kun's basketball is very good now, too."

 

“It’ll get better,” Kagami promises. “Don’t worry. Whoever scouts me will have to take you, too. We’re partners, aren’t we?” He pauses, then asks, “Would you even want to go pro? Or do you just want to play while it’s fun?”

 

"Pro could be fun, too, right?" Kuroko, not-so-secretly pleased at the idea of Kagami making some scout take him along for the ride, too, because they're a _set_ , wriggles closer and gives Kagami's shoulder a light headbutt. "I don't know. We should worry about that later." 

 

“Yeah, okay. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you behind. I know you’ll work way too hard for that.” Kagami grins, nuzzling against Kuroko’s face, then catches sight of a clock and groans. “Come on, I better get you home. Your mom is really gonna hate me.”

 

"She thinks you're a scary American," Kuroko answers without batting an eye. "She can't possibly hate you when she wants to fix you."

 

“Rude,” Kagami mutters, heaving Kuroko up to his feet before following. “She only thinks that because you told her I was a foreigner. _And_ you put all those bites on my neck before I took you home, she probably thinks I have an insane girlfriend and I’m going to corrupt you.”

 

"But aren't you corrupting me? Kagami-kun is a pervert and a loud, noisy American that forgets to take his shoes off."

 

“Watch it,” Kagami growls, socking Kuroko in the arm. “That innocent stare doesn’t fool me. Oi, you want a cake before we go? I made too many earlier.”

 

"Kagami-kun is learning how to bake? Yes. I definitely want one." 

 

Kagami unearths a tray of small cakes, more than half-empty by this point, and brandishes them in Kuroko’s direction. “Try one. Tell me if they’re bad. They’re lemon vanilla.”

 

Kuroko helps himself, and one delicate bite later, downs the rest of the cake in short order. "They're awful. Kagami-kun should give them all to me."

 

Kagami’s mouth twitches. Then he grabs a roll of aluminum foil, wrapping up all the cakes. “Eh, I like them better with coffee and I don’t have any,” he lies, stepping in front of the coffeemaker to block Kuroko’s view. “Here, share ‘em with your sisters. Or not.”

 

"They needn't be exposed to such travesties," Kuroko very seriously says, stealing another one before it can be wrapped up. "It's okay, Kagami-kun. You can practice baking more with me as your taste tester." 

 

“I just got bored and we had all the stuff,” Kagami mutters, leading the way out of the house. “It’s not a hobby or anything. Plus I just wanted cake.”

 

"Maybe Kagami-kun should be a chef instead of a pro ball player."

 

“Dumbass. Just because I know how to feed myself doesn’t mean I want to do that for a living.”

 

"You can just be my personal chef, then."

 

Kagami shuts and locks the door behind them, and as they start off, says casually (he hopes), “You should just move into my place after high school. Then I’ll have to cook for you every day.”

 

Kuroko tilts his head, considering it. "If we go to the same university," he says, "that would make a lot of sense. Ah--Kagami-kun is attempting to be smooth, isn't he? It's working, good job."

 

“You’re fucking awful. I take it back.”

 

"No, I already accepted. You can't take it back."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

“Oi, Tetsu!”

 

Aomine’s voice is lazy, full of laughter as he jogs over after practice, tossing a wet towel that hits Kuroko in the face, hanging over his head. “Thought you might need that. You gonna pass out?”

 

The weight of the towel is more than enough to send Kuroko toppling over, and he decides that lying on the ground is a lot better than standing up, anyway. 

 

Why is he here again, exactly?

 

He doesn't really remember on most days, but at least he isn't throwing up every day during practice now… or falling over and getting nosebleeds. Kuroko bites back a groan and wonders if there's enough moisture in the towel to drown himself with. "Thank you, Aomine-kun." _And now I will just lie here and try to die._

 

Aomine’s laugh is easy, and he grabs Kuroko by the waist, standing him upright. “None of that. You’ve got to look good for the Captain and the Director, right?” Damn, he’s only just gotten Akashi and everyone to see how good Kuroko is, now is _not_ the time for them to forget about it. “A little more, then once they leave I’ll let you ride piggyback to the showers, okay?”

 

Kuroko blinks a little blearily when the towel slides away from his face, and he manages a nod. Right. He can do this. He can totally do this. He can…

 

Ah, he's going to die. He's 100% sure he's going to die.

 

"Maybe," he says carefully, and tries not to sway, "I'll start mopping the floors. That makes me look like I'm… vigorous and still alive, right?" 

 

Shit, he doesn’t want Kuroko to _kill_ himself or anything. “Fuck the Director,” Aomine says abruptly. “Go into the locker room and cool down, I’ll be noisy out here until they forget when you left.”

 

"No, I can definitely do it." Aomine is _really_ nice to him, and the least he can do is try and return that by working his hardest. Kuroko sucks in a slow, steadying breath. "It's just for a few minutes. I have to be able to push myself for games, don't I?" _Assuming they ever even put me in again after last time,_ he wearily thinks.

 

Aomine grins, and holds out his fist for Kuroko to bump. “That’s the spirit. Forget about last time, next time they’ll see what we can really do. Damn, you make me want to go run extra drills just so I don’t fall behind!”

 

"… I really don't think Aomine-kun is going to fall behind any time soon," Kuroko says, but he smiles as he lifts his fist (a little shakily) and bumps it against Aomine's. "I'll meet you in the locker room in a few then."

 

It’s hard not to think Tetsu is so cute when he tries so hard, like a puppy with too-big paws running on a slippery floor and making itself exhausted. Aomine makes himself laugh at that mental image and goes to run layups until Akashi leaves, citing some retarded poetry reading or something, Aomine isn’t really listening.

 

He looks around carefully for Kuroko--twice, just in case--and heads off to the locker rooms, stripping down as he goes, leaving jersey and shorts wadded up on his way to the showers. “Oi, Tetsu,” he calls, flipping on the water. “You in here yet?”

 

"Mm, right here."

 

Honestly, Kuroko is used to this by now. Apparently, it's a good thing (or so Akashi reassures him on a regular basis), but it gets a bit awkward at times like these, when he's in the process of turning on the water, too, and Aomine ends up in the same shower and doing it for him. Kuroko sighs out a long sigh, drenched in an instant. "At least you didn't fall over like Midorima-kun did the other day when I surprised him…"

 

Aomine blinks. He’s gotten used to Kuroko sort of _appearing_ , even if it can be a little distracting sometimes. Then again, they’re rarely both _naked_ when it happens. He grins, stepping under the same spray. “If you wanna be invisible, you’d better learn to share.”

 

"I'm good at sharing," is the mild protest to follow, and Kuroko merely sighs again as he sinks back against the wall, still feeling a bit too wobbly to stand properly. "Aomine-kun is really amazing. It takes everything I have just to get through practice, and then _you_ do even _more_ things…"

 

“It’s not amazing if it’s easy, right?” Aomine says, letting the water wash over him. “Besides, basketball is really fun. There’s not that many things I’m good at, so it’s great to be able to go all-out. You’re going as hard as you can too, right, Tetsu?”

 

"… Maybe I should go until I'm throwing up again."

 

“You went until you fell over. That counts.” Aomine ruffles Kuroko’s hair, sending water everywhere. “Hey, you’re getting a lot more muscles, too. Look here, in your shoulders, that’s huge for a little guy like you.”

 

"Aomine-kun has muscles everywhere, though." It's hard not to sound a little grumpy about it. He's _getting_ a lot more muscles? After so long, he _guesses_ that's okay, but it's still a little frustrating. "I'm not _that_ little. More like normal," Kuroko adds underneath his breath.

 

“Yeah, but basketball is a big guy’s sport,” Aomine points out. “If you’re normal, you’re tiny in basketball. For you it’s good, though!” He squeezes one of Kuroko’s deltoids. “See, you’re getting nice definition here,” he says, running his thumb along the edge of it. “You didn’t have that last month.”

 

"… That's true." It's actually a little disheartening, to think that he practiced hard enough in the third string to stop throwing up _there_ , only to move to the first string and _sort of_ stop puking there all over again. Maybe if he had worked this hard from the start, he would be further along. Kuroko's brow furrows, and he absently reaches out to thumb the curve of Aomine's shoulder. "Aomine-kun is really _long_. Are your parents as tall as you? Or is there a trick to it?" Maybe he'll have a growth spurt or something.

 

“My dad’s tall, sort of. Grandparents are tiny, but everyone’s are.” Aomine’s grin changes a little, one half of his mouth crooking more than the other as he looks down at Kuroko’s hand on his shoulder. “You have a nice touch. Kind of girly, in a good way.”

 

Kuroko blinks, his head tilting slowly in confusion. "… It's good to have a girly touch?" he echoes, and he idly pokes at the jut of Aomine's collarbone, which he sort of barely comes up to. "What constitutes 'girly', anyway?" 

 

Aomine leans down, eyes a little hungry as he watches Kuroko’s hand. “Soft. Cute.” He looks down at Kuroko’s face, and murmurs, “Are you into guys, Tetsu?”

 

 _That_ startles another, sharper blink out of him, and Kuroko feels heat immediately rise to his cheeks. "I've… never really…" Thought about it? Considered it at all? Or girls much, for that matter. It's never particularly _mattered_ , if he thinks about it… 

 

… except he has sort of thought about Aomine a lot lately, and how tall and long and lean he is, and how he moves on the court like he's a big, sleek cat more than a mere human, and makes everyone else look like something awkward and broken--

 

"I think… Aomine-kun is very handsome." That last part might have been a bit too quiet. What if this is all a joke or something? No, Aomine-kun isn't _like that_ , he wouldn't play a joke like that.

 

That’s a _really_ good response. Aomine knows he’s handsome, of course, but this is definitely different. He brings a hand up, cupping Kuroko’s face, leaning down until their noses are almost touching. “What would you do,” he breathes, eyes alight with a wild, untamed glee, “if I kissed you right now?”

 

He’s going to do it anyway, probably, unless Tetsu runs away. Then he’ll just laugh it off tomorrow and throw something at him for being gullible.

 

"… Wonder why you'd kiss me instead of any of the dozens of girls that sort of throw themselves at you?" Kuroko manages to say without his voice wavering too much. Ah, Aomine _really_ is handsome when he looks down at him like this, and Kuroko swallows slowly, his fingers hesitantly tracing upward to curl around the back of Aomine's neck. He was hot before--now he feels like he's about to faint, a dozen times more so than he does in practice. 

 

Shit, this is _real_. Aomine’s skin gets sort of prickly, like before a big game, and he wants to not fuck this up just as badly. One smooth movement, just like in games, he tells himself, and even though the prickling gets to be so much he can feel it all up and down his naked body, he never misses a play. 

 

He bends, bringing his lips against Kuroko’s--fuck if he’s going to disappoint the kid when he’s already got his hands around his neck and he looks so small and cute and kissable.

 

It doesn't answer his question of _why_ Aomine would kiss him, but it certainly doesn't make it any less _nice_.

 

It's not really like kissing a girl. That being said, Kuroko can't say he's ever been an active participant in that--they sort of… end up kissing him, and then running away, shy and fluttery and leaving him staring in their wake. Girls are _strange_. _This_ is a whole lot different, and leaves him huffing out a soft, unsteady breath through his nose as he tries to stretch up on his tiptoes and kiss back more, no matter how hesitantly or awkwardly or is he really _doing_ this right?

 

Kuroko wobbles, clinging to Aomine's neck a bit more and feeling his skin flush hotter as he ends up sliding _close_ when he does. Even the water doesn't exactly make everything cool down, and it definitely doesn't make him less lightheaded now.

 

Aomine opens his lips, giving Kuroko’s bottom lip a slow, soft suck before tracing it with his tongue, then slowly pulling away. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, and his voice is a purr when he murmurs, “Good. Ah, you’re really good at that.” He brushes a strand of Kuroko’s hair out of his face and says with a smile, “We’ll do that again soon, yeah?”

 

What else is there to do but nod when his head and vision are swimming and all he wants to do is let his tongue flick out and taste where Aomine's mouth has been? "I… ah… yes." A slow, shuddering breath brings him back to reality (sort of), and Kuroko slides his hand away from Aomine's neck, brushing his fingers over his own lips without thinking. Ah. At that, he's sure his face is _painfully_ red. "We… um… the water is getting cold," he weakly attempts.

 

Aomine shuts the water off. “Can’t tell,” he admits. “I’m always warm. Hey, this is really lewd if we’re both here naked and kissing, go get dressed.” He _likes_ lewd things, but Kuroko sort of looks like he’s been run over by a truck enough for one day. He tugs on his shorts, throwing Kuroko a wink as he tucks his dick away. “Good thing we both like to stay late after practice, eh, Tetsu?”

 

Kuroko wobbles again as he nods, and he kind of half-stumbles, half-walks out of the shower to grab his towel and get dressed. "Do you… do this sort of thing often?" He's fairly certain everything he's _ever_ heard about boys that kiss other boys hasn't been positive. That being said, _he_ has never personally had any bad experiences with people like that, and Aomine is far from the stereotype. Very, _very_ far, in fact (and what does it say about him, that he thinks Aomine is exceedingy attractive the more he looks at him?). 

 

“Nope.” Aomine grins, tossing his wet towel over Kuroko’s face again. “Guess you’re just special.”

 

Ah. Now he's even more confused. Kuroko blinks into the towel for a moment before slowly peeling it off. "I'm sorry. I really don't understand."

 

“Huh?” Aomine tilts his head, tugging on his shirt and sweater. “What’s not to get? When I want to make out with someone, I do it. I wanted to make out with you. I’m gonna want it again, too.” He rakes his hair out of his face. “When I want something, I go get it. You should do the same thing, Tetsu.”

 

When it's put like that, it does make a lot more sense. Most things out of Aomine's mouth, said with that much conviction, make a lot of sense. But… still. "But… we're both guys," Kuroko hesitantly points out. "That doesn't… bother you? What if someone found out?" 

 

Aomine laughs. “You worry too much. We’re on a champion sports team, we could come to school tomorrow in miniskirts and no one would give a shit. We’re like idols now, man.” He leans down, tweaking Kuroko’s nose. “See you tomorrow, Tetsu.”

 

He supposes Aomine has a point about that, too, but Kuroko is fairly certain his parents would see differently. "Ah… yes. Right." It's still nice to feel _wanted_ like that--Aomine did say he'd want to do it again, didn't he?--and so Kuroko allows a faint smile to curve over his lips. "See you tomorrow, Aomine-kun." 

 

~~

 

 _See you tomorrow, Aomine-kun_.

 

Yeah fucking right.

 

The alarm sounds as loud and obnoxious as any buzzer-ending to a game, and Aomine grunts, rolling over to smack his hand over it. He lies there for about ten minutes afterwards, wondering if getting up and practicing is even worth it today, especially when his vision is little more than a blur of wide blue eyes staring up at him--then, so damnably cute and confused but _wanting_ , and far more recently, so aggravatingly determined--

 

"Fucking hell," is his cross, annoyed mutter to follow, and he grabs at his cell phone. It's sort of pointless to try and ignore his dick at this stage--at least, that's about what he types in a text on reflex. 

 

_Let's practice today._

 

Kise looks down at his phone, and can’t help but laugh. _Practice--honestly, Aominecchi,_ he thinks, leaning down to give the girl on his arm a little kiss. “Want me to walk you home, Reia-chan?”

 

She pouts a little at not being snapped up for an evening date, but he’d _already_ been really sweet to her all day. “No thanks, I’ve got a ride. Unless you want to meet my parents?”

 

“I have a photoshoot tonight, baby. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time!”

 

The second she walks out of the coffee shop, Kise’s in a taxi, texting back. 

 

_Thought you’d forgotten. Are you already in practice clothes?_

 

Thinking about Aomine waiting for him naked is enough to make his cock hard in the back of the taxi, though he carries on a pleasant conversation with the cabbie nonetheless.

 

Practice clothes. Yeah. That's _totally_ what they're calling it. Aomine snorts in amusement, kicking off a bed sheet for good measure as he stretches out. _Yeah, totally ready to go. Dump your date and get over here already._  

 

Knowing Kise, he already has. Thank god Kise is reliable in that regard if nothing else. 

 

It’s less than five minutes until Kise’s ringing his doorbell, immaculate in the clothes he’d changed into for his date, hands casually tucked into his pockets. Ah, Aomine is so hot sometimes, especially when he’s eager like Kise can tell he is today, just from the tone and frequency of his text messages. He doesn’t mind being a warm body sometimes, not when Aomine is so good at making him scream, and really, he’s always had a _little_ crush on their old ace.

 

Aomine puts little effort into answering the door. That kicked-away sheet strung around his hips is clothing enough, right?

 

"'Sup." He pauses, leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows arched in open amusement as his eyes rake up and down. "Geez, Kisee. You must have dropped a hell of a date to come this way. Don't I feel special."

 

Kise loosens his tie with one finger, eyes traveling over the smooth expanse of dark skin  as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Aominecchi sounded lonely,” he says, almost sing-song. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come as fast as I could?” Whoops, probably not a good choice of words. Whatever, there’s not much blood left in his head.

 

"It's a damn good thing you're hot," Aomine snorts out, rolling his eyes as he grabs at the other boy immediately, wrapping a hand around the back of Kise's neck to drag him further inside. "Pretty sure most of your brain's in your dick. Damn, you do look good with a tie, though," he mutters, hooking his own fingers into it to yank Kise along. 

 

Damn, but even hearing that compliment in Aomine’s sultry voice is enough to drain the last of the blood in Kise’s body down south. He follows like a puppy, walking fast enough to press a hot open-mouthed kiss on the side of Aomine’s neck, grazing it with his teeth as he stumbles after him into the bedroom. “You gonna fuck me today?” he breathes, hands sliding around Aomine’s body to slide up and down his abdomen, one hand brushing over short wiry curls before traveling up again. “Or you just need your dick sucked?”

 

It feels good, probably too good, to drop a lot of the pretense he carries around with him most of the time. Aomine’s never fallen for it anyway.

 

Jesus fuck, this is why he always, _always_ texts Kise.

 

Aomine sucks in a ragged breath through his teeth, letting the sheet slide off entirely to the floor as he jumps back onto the bed, grabbing at Kise's tie again to haul him down between his legs. "Want you to fuck me," he rumbles, lurching up to bite at the arc of Kise's throat, teeth scraping along the curve of it before he sucks, hard and deliberate. "Do it with most of your clothes still on, maybe you'll feel even more self-important, huh?" 

 

Kise had thought he was hard _before_. 

 

His eyes narrow to golden slits, and he only pauses to take off his jacket, tossing it onto the bed before he braces his weight on his hands on either side of Aomine’s head, looming down over him. “And maybe you’ll feel even more used, eh, Aominecchi?” he breathes. 

 

He reaches down, wrapping long fingers around Aomine’s cock first, slow, even strokes to get him at least close to as hard as he himself is. “Give me some of that lotion you like,” he murmurs, leaning down to set his teeth sharply to one dusky nipple. “Ah, god, your skin is so dark, it makes me want to come on you.”

 

"Kise, you fucking weirdo," is the grunt of a response Aomine offers, his hips jerking up against Kise's hand in a slow, but no less eager roll. Girls are one thing, but Kise's something different in how he touches and grabs and says things. It's a far better distraction than _any_ girl could be right now, and Aomine doesn't hesitate in throwing an arm to the side, grabbing with long fingers at the lotion in question to thrust the bottle in Kise's direction. 

 

Kise snatches the bottle, leaning back on his knees to unbuckle his belt, slowly dragging down the zipper of his trousers, dragging down the waistband of designer underwear and pulling out his cock. There’s no real fun in teasing Aomine; he just gets pissy and frustrated. The fun is in teasing himself a little, squeezing hard at the base. “You gonna take a long time?” he breathes, already slicking his other hand with lotion. “I have a hairtie I can use as a cock ring if you want to get fucked for a long time.”

 

"Fuck," Aomine mutters, shutting his eyes briefly. The idea of that goes straight to his dick, and there's no helping the shudder that twitches down his spine, bringing him to lurch up and claw a hand down Kise's spine, raking his nails down the bumps of it through fabric. "Do that," he murmurs, teeth snapping sloppily at Kise's earlobe, at that stupid, ridiculous earring he always wears. "You've got a nice dick, I wanna enjoy it." 

 

Kise laughs low in his throat, pulling out a hairband he’d snatched from Reia earlier and wrapping it snugly around his cock, tugging it down over his balls to make sure of himself. “You’ll enjoy it,” he promises, voice gone lower, raspier than his usual flirty tones. He brings a slick hand up between Aomine’s legs, circling a single finger around before sliding it smoothly inside him. “How long has it been since you took a thick cock in here, Aominecchi? You think you can do it without screaming?”

 

A hot, heavy breath leaves him in a rush, and Aomine groans, the sound rumbling low in his throat as his hips twitch down, legs spreading further. "Unlike _someone_ I fucking know," he breathlessly says, raking a hand back through his own hair as he stretches his legs out, toes curling, "I don't scream like a little bitch."

 

That makes Kise laugh again, but he doubts it’s a _nice_ sound. He adds another finger, spreading them apart, rotating them in slow circles, and leans down to bite Aomine’s lip. “Are you trying to make me fuck you right now?” he breathes, using a knee to kick the other boy’s legs farther apart. “You still have a really tight ass for someone that likes to get fucked. You should finger yourself more, get nice and loose so I don’t have to stretch you out before I fuck you.”

 

"Fuck you." It's less of the bitten out thing that Aomine wants, more of a breathy, drawn-out groan as he grinds down against Kise's hand, arching his back to ride it with long, sinuous rolls of his hips. He drags a hand up, fisting it into Kise's hair and tugging hard as he cranes his own head up, biting, sucking at Kise's lips. "Who the fuck said you had to do that, anyway?" he rasps. "Just hurry up and put it in me."

 

Kise’s not always a good person. He tries, and he’s probably the biggest fan of the motto “fake it till you make it” in the world, but he’s really not always successful. There’s still resentment, for example, from the last match Kaijou had fought against Touou, and it gives him more satisfaction than he wants to admit to pull out his fingers. He grins, looming over Aomine again, shoving his legs wide as he presses the head of his cock against Aomine’s hole. “You’re gonna be sore tomorrow,” he teases, and shoves in hard and fast.

 

 _Good_.

 

 _Hurting_ is one hell of a way to take his mind off of things, and Aomine sucks in a sharp, ragged breath through his nose, his teeth clenched to keep back a moan that breaks low in his throat. Kise _does_ have a really nice cock--long and thick and spreading him open now in one hot, slick shove, leaving his body twinging and twitching and _complaining_.

 

Aomine would be a liar to say he doesn't fucking love it.

 

He sags back with a hard shudder, wriggling and arching to throw a leg around Kise's waist, his hands like claws as they drag down his back. If that isn't encouragement, then what the fuck _is?_

 

“Can you take it?” Kise’s voice is a breathless tease, and he thanks god for his foresight in using a cockring. If he hadn’t he probably would have come already with how tight Aomine is, clenching down on him like a fist. He slams his hips in hard and fast, knowing by now what Aomine likes. 

 

Not that he doesn’t enjoy giving it to him.

 

“Aominecchi likes getting fucked hard, hmm?” he purrs, hands digging into Aomine’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises. “You make slutty noises when you’re on your back. Maybe after this I’ll let you suck me off.”

 

Aomine is _glad_ that his mind tends to click right the hell off when he's getting fucked, because otherwise he might punch Kise in the mouth. 

 

As it is, the words just make him harder, just make him want to groan and arch and writhe down onto Kise's cock, and so he _does_ , panting out a hot, unsteady breath when Kise shoves in deep enough to make his eyes roll back and mouth go slack. "Shut the fuck up." It's a growl more than anything else, and one hand drags down Kise's spine, nails raking over the curve of his ass before Aomine _grabs_ , squeezing that tight curve of flesh as he lurches up with a broken groan. "Only thing you're good for--is being a goddamn fucktoy," he pants out. "Didn't ask you to fucking _talk_." 

 

Shit, Aomine’s way too good at talking down to him. 

 

Kise shudders, cock throbbing worse than ever because of that damned ring, and lurches forward, slamming into Aomine with every sharp rock of his hips. He likes it too much, knowing he’s just a toy, a plaything, a hard surface for Aomine to rut against--

 

Because really, Aomine is nothing more to him.

 

He reaches between them, grabbing at Aomine’s cock and squeezing hard before he starts stroking in time with his thrusts, setting his teeth to the side of Aomine’s neck. _At least we’re honest about it_ , he thinks in dark humor, and slams up between Aomine’s legs, filling him with cock.

 

And at least Kise's a _good_ fucktoy, to boot. 

 

He doesn't _scream_ , but his voice catches hard in his throat all the same, something that might have been a purring moan reduced to a throaty, broken rumble. His legs tremble, splaying wide, shivering all the way down to his toes that curl up so tight that his legs start to _cramp_ , and fuck, that adds another edge to all of it, leaving him to pant and twitch and _writhe_ up into Kise's hand.

 

"Don't--you dare fucking t-take that thing off," Aomine gasps out, _feeling_ how hard Kise is inside of him, how he throbs and how much it must hurt to be that hard. His own back arches and he fucks up almost lazily into Kise's hand, savoring the slick, tight drag of those fingers around his cock for a few more moments before he surrenders with a groan, spilling hot and hard over Kise's hand, head thrown back and body a tightly strung arc. 

 

Kise wipes sweat from his forehead, buried as deeply within Aomine as he can go, back tightly bowed as he stays there, panting, watching Aomine come all over himself. His eyes are hungry, drinking in every little expression on Aomine’s face. “You look good,” he breathes, licking up a droplet of sweat on Aomine’s cheek. “You look so good like that, Aominecchi--you want me to fuck you again? I’ll turn you over and do it right now.”

 

Aomine sags back with a ragged, breathless moan, his eyes lidded and bright. "God, you're hot when you say shit like that," he groans, dragging a hand up Kise's spine, easy and lazy enough that it might almost be affectionate. Getting fucked again is a good idea in theory, but he's feeling a little more selfish than usual today, and so--"You can fuck me again later." He licks his lips. "You're so hard that it's gotta be hurting, right? Jerk off on my face, I know you've been thinking about it, slut." 

 

Kise shivers, pulling out at those words, crawling up to kneel on either side of Aomine’s chest. “You know that means you’re getting fucked by a slut,” he says, pulling off the hairtie with a groan that’s probably going to get Aomine a complaint from his landlord later. He’s so hard it hurts, and the first touch of his hand is enough to make a tear squeeze out from his eyes. “Shit, it’s going to look really good on your face,” he breathes, and it only takes two strokes of his hand before he’s coming, painting thick white spurts over the dark tones of Aomine’s skin, startlingly aroused by the contrast of colors. Maybe all that dark skin is good for something, he thinks lazily, shoulders drooping as he admires his handiwork.

 

"At least you're a _good_ slut," is the snide, breathy retort that Aomine tosses back as he swipes a pair of fingers over his own cheek. He grabs a handful of Kise's hair, hauling him down before shoving his fingers into Kise's mouth, twisting them against his tongue. "Really glad I texted you," he sighs out, his own eyelids languidly drooping as his tongue flicks out to lick at his own lips, oddly savoring the taste. Maybe Kise's rubbing off on him a bit--heh, pun not intended but great anyway. "No one else is as good of a fuck." 

 

Kise closes his eyes, slowly sucking his own taste off of Aomine’s fingers, letting them fall from his mouth with a slick _pop_. The jester’s mask isn’t quite in place yet, his face slack and honestly pleased. “You too,” he murmurs, giving his fingers a last lick. “This was a good idea.” He’s half of the mind to ask Aomine what’s got him so worked up today that he needed to be fucked hard, but that’s not part of the _come over and fuck and never talk about it_ arrangement.

 

Aomine exhales a long, heavy breath in a _whoosh_ , and gives Kise a light shove off of him, rolling him to the side. "Take your clothes off, I'll get us some sodas," he grunts, _slowly_ climbing out of bed with a long stretch. "Unless you've got somewhere to be, Idol-san." 

 

“If I were an idol, wouldn’t you have a trivia book about me?” Kise asks sweetly, wriggling out of his pants and kicking them to the floor, following with his tie and shirt.

 

"That's only for hot chicks." Aomine disappears for only a moment around the corner before returning with an almighty flop onto the bed, shoving one soda in Kise's direction. "Just checked five minutes ago, you're not a chick. Pass on the trivia book." 

 

“I’m better. You can only fuck a chick. You can fuck me and get fucked by me,” Kise points out, opening his soda and taking a long drink. He can’t quite help the way his eyes follow Aomine’s cock. Even relaxed, Aomine is something feral and lithe to watch, and Kise doesn’t bother hiding it. He doesn’t have to, with Aomine. They’re both in this for the same reasons.

 

Aomine smirks back at him. "True that. Is that supposed to be a hint, Kisee?" he purrs, rolling onto his back as he takes a long drink from his own soda. "I would've thought you had another hook-up by now."

 

Kise grins, stretching out alongside Aomine, letting a leg drape over one of his. “Opportunities,” he agrees, “but I don’t hook up with just any guy. That’s the kind of thing I keep quiet, you know? Mostly just cute girls that want to fall asleep on my shoulder at the movies.”

 

Eh, Aomine can understand that. He gives a rumble of agreement, idly wriggling his toes and poking Kise with his foot. "Good, but boring." He takes another drink from his soda, before _casually_ asking, "You heard from Tetsu lately? Outside of games, I mean." 

 

Ah, so it’s that time of night already. Why the fuck not, they both know the reason they’re here. “Few days ago. He’s shitty about answering his phone, but he always texts back right away. He’s been tutoring Kagamicchi a lot, I guess the guy’s failing like everything.”

 

Aomine grumbles, low and irritated. "Fuck that. He never answers _my_ texts." Okay, so he only sent them that _once_ , but that's beside the point. "He only talks to me when he wants something, the little shit." 

 

“He’s awful,” Kise agrees affectionately. “I have to say, I’m really jealous.” He laughs a little at himself, trailing a finger up Aomine’s abdomen. “Tell me again how he kisses.”

 

A long-suffering groan follows that. "Fuck you, I was having nightmares about it," he mutters, even as he rolls partially over to set his soda aside and sling an arm properly around Kise. "If you actually _did_ get to kiss him, you'd be disappointed, I bet." 

 

“Yeah?” Kise asks a little dreamily, nestling into Aomine’s arms. “All soft and light and embarrassed? I bet he’s more assertive now. I bet he’d be really firm about it. Were his lips soft, or chapped?”

 

"Soft, like a girl's." Aomine tries to keep sounding annoyed about it, he swears he fucking does. It's easier said than done. "He held onto me like a girl, too. Ugh, he was a twig an everything, I don't know why I thought he was so fucking cute when he was so _weak_ ," he mutters, shoving his face into the mess of Kise's hair. "He's probably got a girlfriend. Always was better with girls than both of us, go figure."

 

“I bet he kisses her really softly,” Kise says quietly, resting his cheek on Aomine’s shoulder, eyes unfocused. “Do you think he fucks her?”

 

"… Don't make me jealous of a goddamn girl." Aomine ducks his head, biting down into the curve of one of Kise's ears. "I can only sink so low for one day."

 

“Can’t help it.” Kise’s laugh is mirthless, self-deprecating. “I’m jealous of pretty much everyone. At least he’s talking to us again.”

 

"To _you_ ," is the annoyed retort. "Like I said, he only talks to me if he wants something."

 

“He still turns me down whenever I ask him to do something,” Kise points out. “He just yells inspirational things when I’m losing at basketball.”

 

"Still sounds better to me. All he wants to do is cling to Kagami's arm. The dipshit isn't even that fucking good, he's just really lucky. Fuck that noise." 

 

Kise laughs, poking Aomine in the side. “If you were as poor a sport about sex as you are about basketball I’d never get to top you. Do you think Kurokocchi’s a bottom?”

 

Aomine scowls at him, jabbing Kise again with his foot. "If you're looking for someone to slap you around, I think you're shit out of luck. But otherwise… I dunno. I don't really care either way. You?" 

 

“Not really,” Kise admits. “I….ahh, god, I miss the way he used to look at us like we were really impressive, Aominecchi. Are we really that shitty now?”

 

"No fucking way." Aomine snorts, smacking a hand across Kise's ass in reprimand. "He's just… ugh, you know he gets an idea in his head and he's so _stubborn_." 

 

Kise arches sharply. It’s far from the first time Aomine has hit him, but every time it steals his breath. It makes Aomine mock him mercilessly, but he really doesn’t need any secrets here. Not like this. His cock twitches against Aomine’s leg, and he murmurs, “What would you do if he were between us right now? Which end would you want first?”

 

"Fuck," is the immediate, irritated mutter to follow--except it doesn't sound as irritated as he wants it to when his cock swells at the first goddamn _thought_ of that. "His mouth." It's far from the first time Aomine has thought about Kuroko's soft, pretty lips wrapped around his cock, and he swallows around a groan, already grabbing at Kise's hair to shove him _down_. "You fucking started this, god dammit. Suck me off and I'll spank you until you come or whatever you want." _Weirdo._  

 

Kise lets out a happy little noise, more than content to let his face be shoved down against Aomine’s cock. “Aominecchi has such a nice dick,” he murmurs, licking a long stripe up the underside before letting his mouth work over it, jaw stretching wide enough that it starts aching immediately as he works his way down. It’s for the best that he has a chance to get nice and hard first; Aomine hits _hard_ , and he probably won’t want to endure too much of it before coming, when they finally get down to it.

 

Ugh, Kise's _not_ fair. It's hard to imagine Kuroko being this good at sucking cock, but his mind veers that way anyway, especially when Aomine twists and grabs at Kise's hair, yanking his mouth down a bit too fast to make the slick slide of Kise's tongue against him that much sloppier. Better that way, especially when he feels Kise gag a bit with the upward roll of his hips. "Just fucking take all of it," he mutters, raking long fingers back through Kise's hair, pushing blond bangs out of his face so Aomine can better look down at him and watch him _work_ to swallow all of him. It's not the same as looking down into wide blue eyes, but it'll do for now. "Just like that." 

 

Kise sucks him down, hungry and greedy, tears welling up in his eyes from the last bit of his gag reflex he can’t quite get rid of, no matter how much practice he gets. A pathetic choked-off moan comes out of his mouth, and he pulls off, filthy with spit and precum, tears streaming down his face even as he gives Aomine a shaky smile. “Call me whatever you want,” he mutters, then slides his mouth down again until his nose presses against Aomine’s belly. Ah, he smells _good_ , male and musky and probably not too recently showered, and it makes Kise so hard his eyes cross.

 

Fuck.

 

Yeah, okay. He's _definitely_ treating Kise to whatever perverted thing he wants after this. Kise's _easy,_ anyway--and on top of that, really fucking good at sucking cock. Aomine groans, his hips jerking forward on their own accord, hands fisting tight into Kise's hair to hold his head still, and there's no _helping_ the way he ruts up into that slick, hot mouth, his cock throbbing against Kise's tongue and down his throat. "Fuck," he rasps out, shutting his eyes, and like that, it's so, _so_ easy to imagine someone else down there, greedily sucking on his cock. "Tetsu, you're fucking _good_ at this." God, what if he _is?_  

 

At least Kise knows he’s probably the best at _this_. He opens his throat as much as he can, gagging a little even so, sucking sloppy and eager on Aomine’s cock as he forces himself up and down, getting harder at every taste of Aomine over his tongue. It’s _good_ when it forces his throat open, when Aomine shoves him down so much he can’t breathe, nose plugged from the crying and mouth stuffed with cock. This, he’s pretty sure, is what cocksucking is all about. Not pretty little licks, not tricks, but real _cocksucking_.

 

 _Something_ reminds him to let up just a little bit, just long enough to let Kise breathe--but not much, not for _that_ long, and Aomine groans as he rolls his hips in deep, feeling the slick suck of Kise's mouth around him, his mind clicking off and imagining it so, so easily to be _Kuroko's_ , especially when Kise gags a bit because Kuroko _would_ , and he'd cry, too, and just be _overwhelmed_ \--

 

Ah, _fuck_ , Kise's gonna tease him later for being this hard, for coming this fast, but there's no helping it when he can just grab handfuls of his hair and fuck up into his mouth, listening to the wet, sloppy noises of that pretty, perfect mouth around him. Aomine shoves in as deep as he can when he comes, growling out a name that's _probably_ Kuroko's, a hand stroking over one flushed, tear-streaked cheek as his cock pulses. "Don't miss a drop," he breathes. "Want you to drink up all of it, so you know what you've been _missing_." 

 

Kise swallows dutifully, taking every drop down his abused throat, flicking his tongue out to clean the head of Aomine’s cock thoroughly before letting it slip regretfully from his lips. When he’s finished, he lays his head against one smooth muscular thigh, and says in a voice that he _knows_ is pretty much a perfect mimic, “Thank you, I’m finished.”

 

Aomine isn't really certain what the fuck noise he makes, but it's probably somewhere between a groan and something way more pathetic. "That wasn't fair," he croaks out, giving Kise's hair a solid yank. 

 

“Just wanted to give the total experience,” Kise says in his own voice, looking up through tear-blotted lashes. “It’s kind of my thing, you know? Ah, Aominecchi, I’m so hard….”

 

"Slut." Coming from him, it almost sounds affectionate, like he's calling a favorite pet or something. "What do you want me to do about it, huh?" Aomine sighs, hauling Kise up by the arm, and delivering a solid bite to the curve of one shoulder. "Still want me to spank you? Or you want something else? Cocksucking of that caliber deserves a reward." Shit, he's _still_ shaky from it. 

 

“Don’t care,” Kise mutters, rubbing his cock against Aomine’s stomach. “Still hurts from last time, I just need to come. Mm, talk really bad to me,” he suggests, wriggling around to get facedown on the bed. “No one safe ever does, you know what I can take.”

 

Fuck, that's _easy_. Aomine laughs at him, rolling over on top of him and biting the back of his neck as he snakes a hand down to squeeze and knead Kise's ass all the same. "Fucking whore," he murmurs into the other boy's ear. "All you're good for is taking dick, you know. Small wonder you come over here at the drop of a hat, you're a whiny slut for it and no one can ever give you enough. I bet you wish your whole fucking team would have at you, don't you?" 

 

Kise groans, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other stroking himself feverishly. He nods helplessly at each accusation, and ah, the last one really hits home. He likes, way too much, the idea of really being _Kaijou’s Kise_ , of getting eagerly on his knees for all of them after practice, of letting them do whatever they want to him and all pet and praise him for it afterward. “Yeah,” he mutters, knees splaying wider. “Changed my mind, hit me too.”

 

Not only is it easy, but it's fun, too. Aomine shifts, sliding his hand over the curve of Kise's ass just once more before it cracks down in a solid _slap_ , leaving a handprint that he _knows_ has to sting, what with how it hurts his own hand. "Get your captain to take you over his knee later, slut," he mutters, biting into a soft earlobe. "Maybe after someone else has fucked you really hard, hmm? You'd already be really sore and fucked out back here when he starts." 

 

Kise lets out a dry sob, biting down on the sheet. His hand falters a little, cock suddenly slick and so hard it throbs, and his legs splay so wide he nearly falls down, thighs trembling. “Won’t shower,” he breathes, cock jumping and leaking in his hand. “Let him finger me all fucked out and full of someone else.” Ah, Kasamatsu-sempai would be so angry with him…..in his fantasy. In reality, he’d probably just grimace and kick or ignore him. In Kise’s mind, he dips a finger inside, hisses, _You fucked someone else, slut?_ And fucks him out so hard he’s aching for weeks. “Fuck, one more, make me come--”

 

Aomine's hand connects again with skin in a swift, hard crack, and once more for good measure, just to relish how Kise arches and trembles and _whines_. "Not just _someone_ else. Your whole fucking team would have a go at you before he got a chance to even touch you. Both ends," Aomine laughingly adds, wrapping a hand up in Kise's hair to wrench his head back. "They'd have at that pretty mouth of yours just as much as your ass. You'd swallow so much of them that you'd feel sick all through practice. Fucking whore." 

 

Well, _shit_.

 

Kise groans, a helpless, pathetic wail when Aomine talks like that, hits him like that, and ah, the mental image is so strong he comes with his whole body, shuddering and gasping all over as the spasms wrack through him. He slumps down to the bed with a groan, aching and exhausted and tingling, on the verge of a few overwhelmed tears that he swallows back. “Good,” he groans against the sheets. “Really good. Thanks, Aominecchi.”

 

Aomine can't help but whistle underneath his breath slowly, carefully dragging a hand down Kise's back and over the rather reddened curve of his ass. " _That_ looked like it felt good," he says with a grin, giving his ass a light squeeze before flopping next to him, very satisfied with himself. "Just fucking call me or text me next time you get that bad, geez. You seriously don't get laid enough."

 

“Will do,” Kise agrees breathlessly, rolling onto his side to cuddle up to Aomine. They’re _friends_ , at least, even if they aren’t anything more than that. “I have to be careful and wait until we don’t have a big game coming up.” He huffs out a breath, a little dissatisfied mutter. “Damn Seirin did us both a favor, I guess.”

 

A growl is Aomine's response to that, and he slings an arm and a leg over Kise to keep him close. "Fuck Seirin. Not in the good way, either."

 

“Fuck Kagami Taiga,” Kise says eloquently. Sure, he might _like_ the guy, but….still, _fuck_ that guy.

 

"He still hasn't given me my goddamn shoes back. Asshole." 

 

Kise blinks at him. “That’s a weird bet.”

 

"It wasn't a bet. Remember how I said Tetsu only calls me--and Satsuki, really--up when he needs shit? That was one of those times."

 

“Huh. Asshole,” Kise agrees, though he still doesn’t _really_ get why Kagami has Aomine’s shoes. He rolls out of bed, stretching slowly before reaching for his clothes. “I have a dinner appointment with my manager. You free tomorrow after school?”

 

"If you want me to be." Aomine rolls over, propping his head up in one hand to watch Kise while he moves, admiring the handprints on his ass. "If you don't feel like fucking, I'm up for some one on one if you are. Or both. Whatever."

 

“Both,” Kise agrees, and tugs his pants up. It’s easy, with Aomine. Neither of them are expecting anything out of it, and neither of them get anything out of it except fucked. He wiggles his fingers, the mask already settling into place. “Later, Aominecchi.”

 

He’s hardly even out of the apartment before he grabs his phone, dialing Kuroko’s number.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Kise doesn’t even wait for the doorbell to finish ringing before he starts knocking on the door of Aomine’s apartment, knocking with his whole hand so the frame shakes and lets out a rattling _boom_. He knows Aomine’s mother’s work schedule well enough by now, but the way he feels, he’d come over even if she were home. 

 

His hair hangs lank into his face, phone buzzing in his pocket, tie loose around his neck, eyes something like haunted, something like betrayed, something like self-deprecatingly amused, and he thinks he might be soaking wet from the rain outside. Maybe. He’s not sure.

 

"What the _fuck_ , Kisee," Aomine snaps even before he has the door open all the way, still barely dressed and looking half-asleep. The sight at his door, however, brings him some pause, and he frowns, stepping back to give Kise some space to let him inside. "What the fuck," he repeats. "You let yourself get caught in the rain? I was pretty sure you'd melt, judging by all the times you whined about your hair." _Ugggh, let a joke make things easier, he looks like he wants to whine about a girl or something, why me?_

 

Kise walks in, not bothering to shove the hair back from his face. He stands, shoulders a little hunched, still too stunned to properly get ahold of himself. “I ran into Takao from Shutoku today. We got coffee.”

 

"… Okay?" Is he supposed to give a fuck? Aomine shuts the door, scowling a little as he pulls the towel off of his own shoulders and throws it over Kise's head. "Did everyone run away screaming because you both talk too much or something?" 

 

Kise grabs the towel automatically, starting to wipe himself dry. “He does talk a lot,” he agrees, “and he’s not as good at keeping secrets as I am. He told me him and Midorimacchi went on a double date. With Kurokocchi and Kagamicchi.”

 

It takes a minute for that to really _process_.

 

It _still_ doesn't really process.

 

"A double date," Aomine deadpans. No, it can't possibly by the way Kise's implying it. Kuroko and Midorima can barely sit in the same room together… and what the fuck, Midorima's _dating_ someone? No fucking way. "You're fucking nuts, Kise. He must've meant something else, calm down." 

 

Kise laughs, humorlessly. “Call Kurokocchi and ask him, then. I couldn’t work up the nerve.”

 

"You're such a goddamn baby." This is nothing, Aomine firmly tells himself as he stalks off to grab his phone. It's doubtful Kuroko will even pick up, but maybe because he never calls, he'll think something is actually wrong and _consider_ it--

 

Aomine snorts, irritated, and dials the number.

 

It rings nearly long enough for it to go to voicemail, and Aomine kind of wants to throw it into a wall right when Kuroko _does_ pick up. "Yo, Tetsu." 

 

"Aomine-kun." He sounds decidedly confused. _Good_. "Nothing's wrong, is there?" 

 

Geez, maybe he needs to stop being right about Kuroko's reactions at some point. Aomine scowls up to the ceiling. "Nah. Just proving a point. Kisee's sad you went out to dinner with Midorima and some other idiots the other night because one of them called it a double date or something, so tell him it was just a--"

 

What _is_ unlike Tetsu is for him to hang up out of the blue, and Aomine finds himself staring down at his phone. Huh. 

 

Kise hadn’t been holding out _much_ hope. Takao is a lot of things, but he doesn’t seem like someone that would lie about something like this just for the sake of it. “I knew about Takao and Midorimacchi,” he says, slowly starting to feel more like himself, toweling off his head and tossing the towel onto the back of the couch. “Makes sense, really. Why would someone put up with him if they weren’t getting their dick sucked?” He does a pretty good job, he thinks, of not sounding quite as raw as he feels.

 

"Dammit, can you _not_ give me that mental image?" Aomine groans, raking a hand back through his hair as he dials Kuroko's number again. This time, it goes straight to voicemail, and he starts getting really pissed off. _What the fuck_. "Seriously. Tetsu and _Kagami?_ What the fucking fuck." The universe is playing a really big joke if that's actually true, and it sort of makes him want to go down to Seiren and dribble Kagami's head. "Fuck that guy." 

 

“Fuck that guy,” Kise agrees, flopping down on the couch. “Ah, I know I shouldn’t be mad,” he admits, hand clenching on one of the cushions. “Think I should text him? Nah, if he’s ignoring you he’s definitely going to ignore me.”

 

"Fuck both of them." Aomine throws his phone too hard, uncaring when the battery pops clear out the back and goes ricocheting somewhere else. Not like Kuroko's going to fucking call him, anyway. He _never_ fucking calls. Aomine sucks in a long, unsteady breath before exhaling it just as roughly. Satsuki could put some logic to this. Maybe even Kise can, because he can at least figure out that he shouldn't be pissed about it (definitely shouldn't, the little shit doesn't have the _right_ )--but--"I am _so_ much hotter than that guy."

 

“Damn straight,” Kise agrees. Kagami is attractive enough in his own way, but Aomine is pretty much sex on legs. “I’m hot, too,” he says a little forlornly, though even he knows he’s never been in the running. That doesn’t stop him from thinking about Kuroko’s little smile, or how he’d look in a Kaijou uniform, or how _well_ they would complement each other if only Kuroko would take that chance. “Ah, I’m mad. Do you have anything to drink?”

 

Beer is _so_ not good enough for angry drinking, but at least it's alcoholic enough to ease everything slightly. "I don't fucking get him," Aomine mutters, shoving a beer into Kise's hands as he flops down onto the other end of the couch. "First he turns into a self-righteous little shit, then he hooks up with a hulking idiot? I bet all those times he said he was tutoring Kagami, they were fucking." 

 

Kise makes a face, groaning as he flops down to the couch, popping the cap and downing a few gulps. “Gross. There’s no way Kagamicchi’s careful enough with him. I’ve seen them fight, he doesn’t pull his punches. Ah, Kurokocchi’s gonna get hurt.”

 

"Kisee, shut the fuck up." The ripple of irritation quickly turns to anger at the thought of Kagami somehow doing _anything_ to hurt Kuroko--or actually, just doing anything at all. Kissing him is right out, and Aomine drinks heavily with that thought in mind. "What if I went down to Seirin and dunked his head?"

 

“You do that,” Kise agrees, curling moodily up around his beer. “I’ll steal Kurokocchi away.”

 

"Dude, if you touch him, I'll fucking dunk you, too."

 

Kise pouts a little at that. Ah, much easier to hide away behind the silly mask. “Aominecchi is so rude. At least then it’s still one of us. And I’d share.”

 

"Kisee," Aomine bluntly begins, "I like you. But you're really fucking creepy, you know that? That's why Tetsu doesn't talk to you." 

 

“How am I creepy?” Kise demands. “At least I don’t want to tie him up in a basement or anything, I just think he’s really cute and sweet and I feel better when he’s around.” _And we could have been a really good team, but I was stupid back then and I never got another chance._

 

"I'm amazed that you don't," Aomine deadpans, taking another long sip of his beer. He tips his head back, letting it loll over the back of the couch. "You talk about him constantly even though you don't even _know_ him. You go to all of his games, you probably jerk off to the _idea_ of just playing a single game with him again--and dude, don't think I didn't see the time you turned the background of your phone to a picture you took of him in secret. I can keep going." 

 

Kise’s face flushes in anger, and he drains the rest of his beer. “At least I haven’t spent the last few years obsessing over one kiss. At least I didn’t _have_ something with him and throw it away because of _sports_.”

 

Aomine glares at him. "It was a lot fucking more than just a kiss," he mutters, downing the rest of his own beer. "If you knew Tetsu at all, you'd get that." 

 

“Because it’s him.” Kise sets his can down, the smile fading from his face. “And he doesn’t go around kissing people or saying things to make you feel better if he doesn’t mean them, because he means everything he does. Yeah. I get it.”

 

"Fuck you, man." It makes something twist in his chest to hear someone else say it, to hear someone _else_ lay it out so plainly. Aomine grits his teeth, and in one, smooth motion, turns on the couch and shoves Kise down, a hand over his throat as he looms over him. "Just because you think you know him doesn't mean you _really_ know him," he mutters, giving Kise's throat a solid squeeze. "You know if you ever really tried anything, I'd make you regret it."

 

Kise doesn’t fight the hold on his throat. He stretches out, looking steadily up at Aomine, meeting dark blue eyes with his own. “How about you, Aominecchi?” he asks quietly, no hint of a smile now. “Do you mean everything you do? A hundred percent, like he always does?”

 

Aomine's fingers tighten, slow and even. "When it comes to him," he lowly replies, "yeah, I do. But that doesn't change much, in the end." _If that meant anything, maybe he'd have stuck around._

 

“No? Maybe that’s why you two aren’t a thing.” Kise’s voice is strained, breath coming in shallow, obstructed pants, but he doesn’t struggle. “Maybe he knew you meant it a hundred percent when you threw him away after Teiko.”

 

"The only thing I threw away was the idea of being weak. I--" _Fuck you_ is on the tip of his tongue again, and Aomine snarls out a breath in frustration, releasing Kise's throat with a last, hard shove. "Don't fucking talk about things you don't understand, Kisee. Actually, just don't talk at all." 

 

Kise doesn’t bother moving, laying listlessly on the couch. The tenseness of Aomine’s posture, the roughness of his voice say more than words that he’s taking it even worse than Kise is. “We’re a fucking pair.”

 

"…We really fucking suck, don't we," Aomine eventually, sullenly replies as he slumps back, staring up at the ceiling. "Wanna fuck? You know we at least have better sex than they do." It's kind of a pathetic consolation prize, though.

 

Kise wants to go over to Kagami’s house and punch Kagami in the face, but that’s not exactly productive. “Yeah. Sure.” He pulls out his phone, unable to quite stop himself from texting Kuroko. _What’s up? Want to shoot hoops later? I want to practice with your invisible drive._

 

"Are you texting him?" Who is he kidding--of _course_ Kise is texting him. Aomine groans, lurching over again to snatch the phone out of his hands, just in time for Kuroko to text back _No, thank you, I'm busy today._ "What if I told him you're busy getting fucked?" he crossly growls.

 

 _That_ sends a fluttery pulse of fear through him that Aomine’s hand on his neck hadn’t--Aomine wouldn’t _really_ have killed him, but he might _really_ send that text message. “If you can text,” he mutters instead, grabbing for Aomine’s cock to distract him, “you’re not fucking me hard enough.”

 

Kise's priorities are hilarious at times. Aomine snorts, abandoning the phone in sort order and sliding up between Kise's legs, hands splaying over his thighs as he leans down to snap his teeth over his neck. " _He's_ probably busy freaking out right now." It's slightly satisfying to even think about it. _Serves you right, Tetsu._

 

“Probably.” Kise kicks off his pants, spreading his legs to let Aomine between them without question. Ah, god, that look in his eyes means he’s probably not going to walk out of here too well, but right now that feels like the least of his worries. He can handle soreness, bruises, scratches….

 

Anything but Kuroko sitting happily on Kagami’s lap.

 

“I hope he’s really nervous. Ugh, fuck me up, Aominecchi.”

 

That sounds a dozen times better than _anything else_ his mind comes up with right then.

 

Aomine's response is a throaty grunt of assent, and he simply grabs Kise by the arm, flipping him over and shoving his face down into the couch cushions. "Really don't need to see your face right now," he mutters, yanking down his shorts. There's no point in explaining _why_ \--they both fucking know it, and it makes him feel that much more pathetic, and in turn, that much _angrier_. 

 

It's too long a jaunt to his bedroom to grab his favorite lotion, and Kise can take it, anyway. Aomine spits onto his hand, dragging his palm slickly over his own cock, thumb smearing the precome at the tip of it down with a sigh exhaled through his nose. "When's the last time you took a dick like this, huh, slut?" He shoves a hand between the blond's shoulder blades, holding him down as the head of his cock rubs against his hole. "Too long ago, I bet. You must want it really fucking bad." 

 

Kise groans against the couch cushions, voice muffled and broken. Aomine’s dick is nice, thick and heavy and so hard he can’t stop himself from rutting back. “Too long,” he agrees, planting his knees in the couch for enough leverage to push back. “Almost….two weeks,” he admits, laughing at himself. “Need it, come on--” 

 

He’s half on the verge of asking Aomine to hurt him, but in their current state that’s probably really unsafe. Bruises and marks he can deal with, but Aomine’s a powerful guy without many boundaries, and with how fucking angry he is right now Kise knows he could wind up with a few cracked or broken bones. Better not risk it--he’ll get plenty of that anyway.

 

Aomine has to laugh, too. The thought of Kise not getting any either is _hilarious_ , and at least it's another kind of pathetic consolation prize that someone else is in the same boat. "At least ask _nicely_ if you want it so fucking bad next time," Aomine grunts, fisting a hand up into Kise's hair, clawing at his hips, and that's the last bit of warning he offers before shoving inside, hissing out a hot, ragged breath through his teeth when he sinks in _deep_. 

 

It's way too tight, not slick enough and Kise's going to kill him with how tight he's squeezing around him. "Relax, slut," he hisses out, his hand cracking hard against Kise's ass as he _slowly_ pulls back, just enough to drag spit-slick fingers over half his cock before shoving in again, the slap of their skin together ringing obscenely in his ears. "If you wanna get fucked right, then learn how to take it better." 

 

Kise _aches_. Aomine’s too big inside him, thick and hard and overwhelming, and tears stream involuntarily from his eyes at the _burn_. “I can take it,” he gasps, wanting it whether he’s sure he can take it or not. Aomine’s stuffing him full, making his eyes cross and his thighs tremble, and his arms give out immediately. He goes boneless, letting Aomine hoist his ass into the air, dragging him back onto his cock. 

 

Ah, Kasamatsu never fucks him like this. They only hook up occasionally, when Kasamatsu’s blood is up after a hard practice or he’s frustrated about his luck with girls, and Kise can convince him that it feels just as good to have a man’s mouth on his cock as a girl’s. 

 

It’s not like _this_ , hard and possessive and almost cruel, taking him so thoroughly he’s got no breath left to complain. It’s not like this ever, even if he wishes it were. _But then Aominecchi would be all alone for real. Maybe it’s better we’re pathetic together._

 

He sets his teeth into the couch, eyes closed as he groans, “Fuck me harder.”

 

Aomine would never, _ever_ fuck Kuroko like this, and in a way, that makes him even _angrier_. 

 

He grinds Kise's face down into the couch, shifting his knees up closer to shove in _harder_ , grinding against Kise's ass before pulling back and do it all over again. There's no real care for doing it right, or making it feel _good_ for Kise--not like it fucking matters, because Aomine _knows_ the other boy is rock hard and aching, dripping onto the couch like the slut he is, all because he gets off on being used and being a hole and that's all Aomine can think of him as right now, anyway. "God, you're fucking made for this," he groans, fisting his fingers tightly into Kise's hair, using that hold to yank him _back_ onto his cock, stuffing him so full that his own eyes glaze and his vision sparks white. 

 

Maybe he is. 

 

Kise kind of _likes_ that idea, at least right now. He likes a lot of things he usually wouldn’t when he’s like this--the idea of being nothing but a hole for Aomine to use, the idea of being _made_ for this, for being fucked hard and put away wet, or just left used and gasping on the floor. Ah, fuck, his subconscious is really fucked up.

 

He can feel his balls drawing up tight to his body and tries to fight it down--Aomine’s far too intense for him when he’s already come, when he’s spent and boneless and oversensitive. It’s only _good_ when he’s rock hard like this, cock leaking and breath coming in _yelps_ more than anything. It hurts to be so full, a cramping ache that sends pain all the way up his spine, but his mind is so lost in pleasure he can’t even _care_. “Fuck me,” he chants, uncaring that Aomine already _is_ , his whole world narrowed to those words. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, _fuck mee_ \--”

 

In times like this, Aomine wants him to _hurt_.

 

Kise's begging for it, anyway. That's why he doesn't _care_ , that's why it's fine to just shove him down and bite him and scratch him and leave bruises and marks that will hurt and _linger_. Aomine yanks him back onto his cock, groaning as he shoves in as deep as he can, bending down to bite the back of Kise's shoulder to muffle his voice as he comes, spilling hot and slick inside him, filling him up as his own muscles tremble and _shudder_ with every pulse of his cock. 

 

Kise could cry.

 

His mind clicks off, every thought narrowed to the sensations tearing through his body, wracking him, _breaking_ him, and he comes apart in a white-hot flash behind his eyelids.

 

He screams, maybe. Maybe his mouth is just open, or maybe he sobs when he comes. He can’t hear, can’t think, can’t even _breathe_ when every part of him is shattered.

 

The first thing he’s aware of, when he comes back to himself, is _pain_. He hurts everywhere; even the places Aomine hasn’t hurt him ache from being so tense, and the places Aomine _has_ ….well. “You feel any better?” he asks, and his voice comes out slurred and rough.

 

Aomine slowly, painstakingly pulls out, groaning as he does and flopping backwards. "Not really." No use lying about it to someone like Kise, who at least half-way gets it. His expression is slack and amused as he reaches a hand out, giving one of Kise's thighs a pinch. "You look like you feel like shit, too. Or is that the point?" 

 

“Course that’s the point.” He groans at Aomine’s touch, not bothering to move from his facedown position. “Better this way.” He can’t explain it any better than that. Aomine will understand, maybe.

 

"Yeah." He gets it, sort of. He never particularly wants to be fucked to that extent, but it's the same mindset that he has during a _game_ if nothing else. Aomine sighs, and kneads a handful of Kise's ass, finding that to be a rather pleasant stress relief if nothing else. "We're fucked up."

 

Ah, Aomine is like a big cat sometimes. When he does little things like that, it reminds Kise a bit of how it had been back in Teiko, when everything was still good. “Were we always this bad? I mean, I think _I_ was, but…”

 

"I dunno." Aomine sighs out another long breath. "Probably not. Tetsu keeps giving me that look like he wants to _fix me_ every time he sees me. What the fuck ever. I think we've all changed." He snorts, giving Kise an absent slap. "Hey. Was it just me, or was even Akashi more batshit than usual at the Winter Cup?"

 

“He was pretty normal,” Kise says slowly, thinking about it. “Well, more like….it was always pretty obvious he had that other level. He just never used it on us before. But hey, that’s what’s so cool about playing each other now, right? We get to see all of our true potential. Except me, of course. I’m nowhere near mine yet.”

 

"Still think pretty damn highly of yourself, don't you?"

 

Kise twists around, looking up into his eyes. “I’m still worse than all of you,” he says frankly. “I’ve got to believe I’m still getting better.”

 

"Fucking relax, Kisee, it was a joke." Aomine shoves his head back down into the couch, thoroughly mussing his hair. "I'm not bored of you yet, consider it a compliment."

 

“ _Am_ relaxed,” Kise mutters, butting his head against Aomine’s hand. “You can keep doing that, though. Anything so I don’t have to move yet.”

 

"You don't have to move. Sleep on the couch like that, I don't care. Though if you stay, we're going out for dinner later, your treat." 

 

“Fine, fine. Don’t eat too much, I haven’t been modeling much since the Winter Cup started.”

 

"Slackass. What good are you?" 

 

“None,” Kise mutters, a little less joking than he wants to be.

 

Aomine sighs long and heavy, and he lists to the side, flopping on top of Kise uselessly. "Yeah." _Same._

 

At least Aomine gets it. He’s _heavy_ , but he gets it. “This is why he’s with Kagami,” Kise says into a couch cushion.

 

"Shut up, Kisee."

 

~~

 

After some stressful (not panicked) debating, Kuroko sends Kise another text.

 

_My plans got canceled, if you still want to go and practice._

 

It's not hard to put two and two together. If Aomine called to talk about what he was doing with _friends_ the other night, then someone must have told him--and that someone must have been Kise (somehow, some way or another). Which means for some reason Kise spoke to Takao (because it certainly wouldn't be Midorima), and didn't Takao mention Kise over dinner?

 

His head hurts. When did things get _this_ complicated?

 

Either way, Kuroko prides himself on not pacing or fidgeting overly much as he waits on a bench, basketball one of the furthest things from his mind for once. 

 

Kise should decline. He _knows_ he should decline, because Kuroko doesn’t cancel plans without a good reason, doesn’t _make_ them with Kise pretty much ever, and because he really shouldn’t show up to play looking like he’d been used for a chewtoy slash punching bag.

 

He shows up anyway. It’s for Kuroko.

 

“Kurokocchi!” he calls, face alight as he jogs (limping slightly) over. “Hey, sorry about your plans getting canceled, but I brought a basketball!”

 

Kuroko takes one look at him, and his eyebrows raise as he asks, "Are you still injured, Kise-kun? Maybe practice isn't a good idea."

 

Kise waves that away with one hand, tossing the ball to Kuroko with the other. “That’s nothing, I’m fine. Come on, show me your drive.”

 

"I don't want to." Kuroko tosses it back, stare unwavering. "Kise-kun, have you spoken to Takao-kun from Shutoku recently?" 

 

Kise’s smile falters. “Yeah,” he admits, and shit, yeah, Kuroko’s definitely here to talk about _that_. “We ran into each other this morning, got coffee.”

 

"I see." Kuroko's head cocks to the side. "I thought you hated coffee." 

 

“I do. I still _drink_ it, it’s good for my image as a fashion icon.”

 

"Kise-kun thinks very highly of himself." Kuroko leans back, lacing his fingers in his lap, and he idly wonders if he looks as intimidating as Akashi when he does the same thing. Probably not, but it's worth a try. "Kise-kun has been visiting a lot of friends today, hasn't he? You saw Aomine-kun, too, right?"

 

Ah, Kuroko’s mad. Kise shoves his hands in his pockets, wincing as the motion hurts his shoulder. Shit, what had Aomine even _done_ to that shoulder? “Yeah, I just saw him. We hung out at his place this afternoon.”

 

Kuroko blinks slowly. "With your girlfriend Kamu-chan, right?" 

 

Kise’s head tilts almost entirely to the side. “Eh?”

 

"Your neck, Kise-kun." 

 

Kise’s hand doesn’t fly to his neck. It’s hardly a surprise. He laughs, turning his face up to the sun. “I have a lot of girlfriends, Kurokocchi. That’s a cute pun! Did your point guard come up with it?”

 

"No. Kagami-kun did." 

 

Kise’s head tilts to the other side. “Eh? How does Kagamicchi know about my cute little girlfriends?”

 

"Kise-kun is kind of an idiot sometimes." Kuroko sighs, shutting his eyes briefly. "Then again, I can't quite tell when you're playing dumb or actually dumb sometimes. Either way, please refrain from spreading strange rumors about me to Aomine-kun. It's very stressful and I don't appreciate it." 

 

Kise’s smile fades into something a little less sunny, and his eyes narrow. “That’s a little unfair. If you’re not going to tell your friends anything about your life, we’re going to have to talk about you.”

 

"There's nothing to tell." And there isn't, as far as he's concerned. "Gossiping and spreading rumors is even more rude, you know."

 

“Ah, Kurokocchi, we just care about you is all,” Kise sort of whines, dropping himself onto the bench and putting an arm around Kuroko’s shoulder. “You should be nicer to us. You should _tell us_ when you’re dating someone, especially before you tell _Midorimacchi_ of all people.”

 

"With all due respect, Kise-kun, I don't _have_ to do anything," Kuroko bluntly replies, and calmly shrugs off the other boy's shoulder. "And I didn't realize it before, but now I have, thank you--I have found a reason to see Midorima-kun as a more pleasant person. He keeps his mouth shut about what doesn't concern him."

 

Kise pulls back as if he’s been burned. “Kurokocchi,” he says, smile wavering as he tries to keep it in place, “that’s really rude. I was just worried about you.”

 

"But you aren't," Kuroko firmly says, looking up at Kise with a frown. "You aren't at all. You're worried about yourself, because you feel _threatened_ for some reason. You and Aomine-kun both." 

 

Kise blinks. “Why would you say that? I’m not threatened by Kagamicchi.” He’s not, not really. Kuroko, as Aomine’s so good to keep reminding him, is just about exactly as unattainable now as he had been before.

 

"Then whatever you are, you still aren't worried about me." Kuroko sucks in a slow, calming breath. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't keep talking about me behind my back." 

 

Kise reaches out, grabs Kuroko by the shoulder, and meets his eyes. “Hey. I _was_ worried about you, okay? Not that I think Kagamicchi’s going to hurt you, but because if _I_ heard about it, someone else might too. I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt.”

 

"… The only reason someone else is going to hear about it is if you keep talking about it." Kuroko has no doubts Takao said something stupid and innocent, and Kise drew far too many (correct) conclusions from it. And honestly, most everything out of Takao's mouth is a flirt and invitation, so he doesn't have any reason to worry _there_ because everyone at Shutoku must be used to it… Kuroko heaves a long sigh. "I'm sorry for snapping at you," he finally says. "I just… really wish you hadn't said anything to Aomine-kun." 

 

Kise winces at that, hissing out a breath between his teeth. “Sorry about that,” he says, and he _is_ sorry, mostly. “But hey, it’s not like you two had much of a relationship to ruin right now, right? He says you never talk to him unless you need something from him.”

 

"The _problem_ ," Kuroko says, and he might feel a bit guilty about saying it like this, but it's still true, "is that the next time he sees Kagami-kun, he's going to start something." 

 

“Probably,” Kise admits. “But hey, just warn Kagamicchi, and he’s fast enough to duck, right? Aominecchi isn’t a bad guy, he’s just sort of….weird when it comes to you.” His teeth ache from the blackness of pots and kettles.

 

 _Kagami-kun isn't going to duck--he's going to punch back._ Kuroko refrains from even going there, and simply sighs again, looking extremely tired suddenly. "I'm very tired of people being sort of weird when it comes to me."

 

“Well,” Kise hedges, chancing a ruffle of Kuroko’s hair, “you’re a pretty weird guy. I wouldn’t mind people being a little weird when it comes to me, sometimes,” he adds, wistfully.

 

Kuroko allows it this once. "Perhaps you and Aomine-kun should give up and just date each other, then. Misery loves company."

 

“Ahh, Kurokocchi wants to see me chewed up and spat out,” Kise complains, stretching out his legs and trying not to grimace when his ass shifts against the bench.

 

"That sounds like something Kise-kun would enjoy." 

 

“You’re really mean to me,” Kise whines, no matter that it’s true. “Besides, Aominecchi only likes girls with big boobs. And Kurokocchi.”

 

Kuroko heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Please don't remind me that I am for some reason the exception to his rule." 

 

“Kurokocchi is very bad-tempered about being special to a lot of people.”

 

"I'm very flattered, actually. It's more the way that people try and convey that I am special to them that makes me bad-tempered."

 

Kise shrugs, stretching out a little with a wince. “I still think it would be better to be special to people. Don’t suppose you could teach me how to copy that?”

 

"Mm… Kise-kun is very special to his teammates already, I think," Kuroko says, blinking up at him. "So I don't know why you need to know how to copy it." 

 

“Not like _you_ are.” Kise laughs, shoving his hair back from his face. “Ignore me, I’m just feeling bad about myself. I don’t like it when Kurokocchi’s upset with me.”

 

"I've already given up being upset," Kuroko admits wearily. "It's very tiresome. I think I will just stay upset with Aomine-kun instead."

 

“Before he even throws a punch?” Kise relaxes, more soothed than he thought he’d be by hearing that Kuroko isn’t mad at him. “I really _am_ worried about you, Kurokocchi. I had a talk with Takao when I found out about him and Midorimacchi. I should have one with Kagamicchi too.”

 

"Please don't. He is even more self-conscious than I am, and doesn't know about any of this yet." 

 

“You think you’re self-conscious, but you go on double dates?” Kise asks, a little incredulous. “I guess that’s good, if you’re worried about it. I don’t want you or him to get in trouble. Ah, it seems like everyone’s boy-crazy lately. I guess I’ll have to comfort all the cute girls by myself!"

 

"Takao-kun sort of… has a way of convincing." Kuroko lets his head fall backward over the back of the bench. "Please take all the boys, too, I don't want them."

 

“All the boys too?” Kise echoes, grinning. “Hmm, I’m not sure if I have that much room in my schedule. Or my--well. Taking all the boys sounds like a full-time job.”

 

"Kise-kun, please just stop while you're ahead." 

 

Kise makes a face at him. “So mean, Kurokocchi! This is why I hang out with Takao, he laughs at my jokes.”

 

"I can only imagine being around the two of you simultaneously to be a very interesting experience." 

 

“You know, even if you use big words, that still sounds like an insult.”

 

"Kise-kun is being very sensitive today." 

 

“I’m always sensitive. Kurokocchi usually doesn’t care.”

 

"Mm. Do you really cry on your pillow every night? That seems a bit excessive." 

 

“What else am I supposed to do when Kurokocchi rejects me?”

 

"Not… that?" It's a good question, actually. Kuroko tilts his head slowly to the side. "Kise-kun, you realize you are very strange, I hope."

 

“But I’m adorable,” Kise says with a grin, leaning over to rest his head on Kuroko’s shoulder. “Kagamicchi must be very boring if you’re so shocked by your old friends.”

 

"I'm not shocked. I'm very tolerant of all of you. That being said, Kagami-kun is exponentially more normal." 

 

“Really? That big American who jumps over buildings and eats like a cow?”

 

Kuroko calmly reaches over to poke a sizable bruise on Kise's neck. "Please realize that I am the only one allowed to insult Kagami-kun in such a fashion." 

 

Kise’s hand flies to his neck as he lets out a brief, startled hiss of pain. “Oi, careful, that’s fresh! Kurokocchi’s very defensive of his boyfriend.”

 

"Yes, within reason." Kuroko climbs to his feet with a small stretch. "If you don't want someone to poke your bruises, perhaps you should tell Aomine-kun not to leave them so blatantly."

 

Kise laughs, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle, folding his hands behind his head. “Kurokocchi has quite an imagination. Was that just because I said I saw him today? I said I saw Takao today too, you know. And my cute girlfriend Reia-chan.”

 

"Kise-kun, if you want people to regard you as intelligent, then you probably should extend the same courtesy to others." 

 

Kise’s eyes lid. There’s perceptive, and then there’s sort of freaky. “Mind if I ask where you think you get your information?”

 

"… I think by now," Kuroko quietly replies, "I should know how Aomine-kun thinks and reacts. And if you told him about Kagami-kun and I, then… well."

 

Ah. Of course, he’s thinking about Aomine. “Mm. Then you should be glad I was around to distract him, eh? Otherwise he’d probably have gone right over to Kagamicchi’s house.”

 

"For that, I am very grateful." Although he doesn't like to think about the circumstances surrounding that distraction at _all_. "If you don't mind, Kise-kun, I would like to request we reschedule our practicing for the evening. I don't think you would be very fun to play against right now, anyway." 

 

“I could still play!” But then again, if they reschedule, that means another opportunity to get together with Kuroko later. “Fiiiine, fine. Kurokocchi’s so good to me. After you beat Akashi in the finals, okay? I want to make sure you’re nice and fresh for that.”

 

Kuroko _does_ allow a tiny smile at that. "Mm. After we beat Akashi-kun," he agrees. "Thank you for your support, Kise-kun." 

 

 

 


End file.
